[ It's not until Petra says weeks that Claude realizes: something is off here. He stops chewing to stare at her, manners out the window while he tries to puzzle through how that could be. When she frowns it's difficult to not mirror that same expression, his own brow furrowing. ]

Weeks? You're sure?

[ Petra sounds completely certain - it's Claude who isn't. How could it have only been weeks for her when that's not the case for him, Abraxas aside? He finishes his bite and sets his knife and fork down, suddenly uninterested in food in favor of what feels like a mystery. Or maybe the start of one. ]

It's been months since I last saw you, Petra. Where was it that you last saw me?

[ Perhaps that'll offer some clarification; maybe his memory just isn't what it used to be though that's not reassuring if so. Claude doesn't really know where to go with this next. It feels safer to wait for what she has to say in return, even as warning bells are ringing faintly in one corner of his mind. The problem is that he doesn't know what they're ringing for.

Instead he forces a believable smile in that skill he's never lost to steer the conversation away from that temporarily. ]

No, I'm not usually here. I got out of the barracks as soon as I could, and I'm staying in Cadens at an inn. You don't have to stay out here either unless you really want to.