"So the... Mistrals were s'pposed to defeat him?" there's a pause, a bright glance from the corner of his eyes as they narrow. "... Was it? Did you manage?"

He's not trying to be mean in his questions, it's just... if he doesn't ask, he might paint the wrong picture, or assume things that are out of order. And if he is asking too much-- he glances at the staff once more, certain that at the very least, Goligan would keep an eye out on her. Esteban is clumsy, and he knows it. But he still wants to help.

He reaches out to the vegetables that she is still working on, washing then peeling them, and between him, her, and her entire herd of cards, there's quite a lot to cut and peel and dice. It keeps the hands busy while they talk.