"You always misremember that," Sulen complains. Their fingers tingle a little where Imsayed brushed them, handing over the glass. They take a large swallow of the whiskey, enjoying the burn. "It was about harvest festivals, not harvests themselves. I'm pretty sure grains are calendrically null. Unless you've got fertility cults involved, which are a whole different problem." They turn back to Imsayed. "Andan," they say, casually dismissive. "No memory for anything that's not fashion trends or stock values." They keep their voice relaxed, but they're focused on reading his face, looking for a reaction. "Although there really was a rogue swan."