Of Peculiar Persons

[Althalos]

☿

Eiroldas, 30th of Searing, 120th of Steel

Alcohol wasn't really that good was it? Althalos found himself immersed within what had clearly become his favorite haunt, having concluded another day of work and longing for a bit of relaxation. What he had instead discovered had been a surprising rowdy game of cards being played across a number of different tables within the inn. Here and there was the sound of hard farthings striking wood as gamblers wagered and bet their daily earnings on chance and deception. At first, Althalos had found the card games to be somewhat interesting, having drawn away from his normal table in order to watch a particularly hardy band of -- he believed they were lumberjacks given the wood shavings that still clung to their shirts and the thick workman's gloves at their sides -- as they jostled for position, each one wanting to win a steadily growing pot.

Yet, while the sport wasn't too terribly complicated to understand, Althalos found himself wondering why they were so encapsulated with it. People took turns revealing cards, calling bluffs, and lying through their teeth so obviously that even he knew they were full of it, and he hadn't even played before. Wandering away from the band of card players before they could manage to wrangle him in through sheer peer pressure and swindle him out of the money he had made earlier in the day, Althalos had returned to find that his normal table had been reclaimed by a wandering pair of drunken sods. They whispered in proper moronic fashion at each other, occasionally forgetting to whisper and screaming into their ears only for the offending drunk to shove the other one back a foot or so and continue the conversation.

And so, he had meandered over to an empty stool at the bar, sliding onto it and attempting to out-stretch his arms enough to his sides that the other patrons got the hint and gave him at least enough space to swing his elbows. Ordering a glass of mead -- he enjoyed the sweet taste of it, and found honey, in general, to be especially palatable -- he slid over the four farthings required, and then nursed his drink for several minutes, sipping at it only whenever he felt someone watching him. It was pleasant to drink, and yet, he knew that his digestion didn't function exactly the same way it would for a living person. He'd never had to expel the drink before, and so he wondered whether it simply sat within his stomach, slowly pickling him from within, or whether it was magically absorbed and annihilated.

So long as he didn't drink a great deal of it at once, he felt confident that he would be alright. Taking his mind off of his undead condition, he returned to his observations about the room, and about his reasons for visiting in the first place. Was this really the relaxing atmosphere that he had hoped that it would be, or was he simply forcing himself to socialize so that he didn't appear to be a miserly misanthrope? He wasn't a drunkard by any means, and obviously he wasn't a card player, so he wasn't here for either of those reasons. Perhaps it was true, then, that he had regularly come to the Silver Lion exclusively to make himself known to the locals and to learn more about their ways in the process. At least he didn't have any living creatures in his drink this time, he mused.

Finishing his drink with a sigh, the cold-blooded Siltori slid the mug across the bar and began to watch the staff of the establishment, wondering how they were putting up with the heavy traffic.

[Leliana]

She, Patrick, and Connor had returned from their trip early that morning, much to everyone else's relief. It had lasted significantly longer than she'd imagined, and not at all gone the way they'd planned. The original goal of obtaining new teas for the inn had been a success though, so Elinora and Albert were pleased. They were each given the day off of course to recover, and Leliana had quickly dismissed herself to her room upstairs. Almost immediately after collapsing onto the king sized bed she fell asleep, clothes still on and boots hanging off the edge of the mattress.

The half-breed slept through the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, only rising again once the sun was well past its zenith and beginning its descent on the opposite horizon. She stretched thoroughly with a loud groan then wiped some drool off of her cheek and rose to straighten her appearance. There was only so much she could do after sleeping in her clothes, but she was ravenously hungry and needed to raid the kitchens. Perhaps Vincent would take pity and let her squirrel some food away.

Leliana was surprised to see just how busy the tavern room was when she climbed down the main stairs. Poker night was in full swing and things were quite lively. It was obvious by the shouts and groans who was winning and who was losing. She smiled to herself as she made her way to the bar where Dominik was pouring drinks.

"Do you need any help?"

"No no, you take the evening off. Rose might need an extra set of hands later, but I can bully Connor into running drinks if I really need to--or Patrick, wherever he is. Do you want a drink?"

"Maybe in a little while. Thank you though. I need to find some food first."

"Vincent is in the back," he said with a tilt of his head toward the kitchen doors. "He's not as busy--this lot only seems interested in drowning in alcohol."

The half-breed nodded and patted the bar in thanks. As she turned to head for the back she noticed a distinctive flash of long white hair out of the corner of her eye and immediately balked. Her heart stuttered and she rounded quickly on her heels. Had her father finally found her? The hope that so suddenly swelled was immediately crushed when she realized that although the man indeed seemed to be a Siltori, his profile was very much that of a stranger.

"Leliana?" Her head cocked a bit at the sound of her name. It was Dominik again. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." She was staring at the stranger for far too long, not even trying to be discreet.

"I--I just thought I saw someone I knew." The concern on the eldest Barnell brother's face was obvious. She finally looked at him, eyes rimmed red as she fought back tears. "I think I'll take that drink after all. I'm... not really hungry anymore." Her voice was gruff and she cleared her throat. He was polite enough not to say anything else, or maybe he just didn't know what to say, but when she sat down on one of the stools he poured her an ale and pushed it into her hands dutifully.

It wasn't long until she needed a refill.

[Patrick]

After the entirety of their trip Patrick couldn't have felt happier to be at home, even it was for temporary respite while he was out there in the world. Granted he had originally only went to Grimholdt for one reason in particular, but with the way things panned out while they were there; Patrick knew it was only a matter of time before they'd go back. He and Milana were essentially business partners now, thanks to the tea that they brought back with them from Loras. Which meant starting today they could begin selling tea as a drink now, which Elinora was quite proud about when they finally returned home. So after helping unload all of the shipment, Patrick went back to his flat to rest for a little while; and then return later after a much needed nap.

Later when he awoke and redressed he went back to the Inn, more or less to check in on everyone now that they were all back for a while. He knew he had quite a few stories to tell everyone, especially given the fact a few things happened while they were gone. Overall however he just plain missed the Inn, which was an unusual experience to behold for him. Yet when he entered through the doorway, immediately it felt like he'd walked in on a piece of his life which refused to change. Ever. Drinks never stopped flowing but surprisingly, the food wasn't going out as quickly as it normally did.

Then again it was the Searing season after all, everybody typically needed a fresh drink over a hot meal. Yet he noticed that Dominik stood at the bar, with Lily sitting on one of the stools in front of him, and a pensive look of concern cast at the woman. Why? Was she upset over something? Immediately he felt driven to join them as quickly as possible, hopeful to discern what the situation was when he approached. "Well well, the hero finally returns." The eldest brother managed to tease, even with the concern still prevalent in his eyes.

"Connor not shut up about that yet?" Patrick checked with a grin, though still slightly annoyed about it.

"Does he ever? Then again it's not like he gets to go on business ventures often."

"Therein lies some merit of truth..." Patrick agreed with the older sibling, before inspecting the rest of the bar. "Where is he?"

"Still probably nappin', he was exhausted after we unloaded all that tea." Dominik explained with a faint smirk towards Patrick, before Elinora strolled right outside the office to meet up with the three at the bar.

"Speaking of tea, thank you both so much for going through all the trouble!" She spoke humbly with the sincerest of appreciation, and yet the enthusiastic smile on her face seemed to lessen when she noticed something. "Oh Lily! What's the matter dear? Is everything alright?!" Patrick's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he'd almost forgotten, until just now that is, that Dominik seemed concerned for her earlier also. So naturally when Elinora brought it up with Leliana, both of the two brothers looked to her for answers also.

[Althalos]

☿

Uh-oh.

Clearly there'd been a mistake made in coming to the establishment. Althalos had been sitting, sipping at his drink, noncontent with all of the raucous behavior going on in the tavern, but altogether peaceable and unproblematic in his disposition when a flash of particularly colorful hair had caught all of his attention. She had been walking down the stairs, and he had found himself watching her every step, attempting to determine if he recognized her whatsoever. Althalos didn't think that he had ever seen her around the Silver Lion before, but he'd only been coming for a handful of weeks now, and it was perfectly possible that he had just missed her in that interval. Alternatively, she might've just arrived from out of town, and taken up residence within the Inn.

She was Siltori. That much could be ascertained solely by the coloration of her hair, though as she drew nearer, he recognized that she didn't possess the same glossy pigment to her skin as he did. Perhaps that was a difference in mutation? In truth, he understood very little about their mutual race, but he knew that there were unexpected variations between each of them as a result of some past catastrophe and exposure. His own mutation made itself manifest in a series of darkly colored veins across his flesh, but perhaps hers simply gave her a lack of gleam in her skin.

He found himself enraptured in his analysis. She was pretty, he thought, but there was no base desire or carnality in him that drove his vigil. Instead, he was wholly curious as to whom she was, and what she was doing, and what he could learn from her about the world around him. He thought he saw the briefest touch of a scar somewhere on her face, but the angle was difficult to tell. Could she be a warrior of some sort? She didn't seem particularly hefty or brutish like some of the other mercenaries and Vikingers he'd encountered in Alfsos, but perhaps she was more accustomed to combat at range, and her biceps were secretly toned and mighty.

He'd been staring too long, he realized the instant that she began to converse with the bartender just down the way from him. She wasn't far, perhaps only a dozen feet if he were to get up and walk, but he wasn't the sort to rush into any sort of interaction if it could be helped. She clearly wasn't going anywhere, and he was content to sit and watch her like a hunter observing their prey until he had learned enough to warrant a discussion. He meant nothing malicious, of course, it was simply his way.

And then, she had seen him. She'd looked directly at him, and he'd forced himself to wrench his head to the side, staring directly at a wall as if he were suddenly fascinated by the architecture which held the building together. If his blood had not turned to coagulated mush within his veins, he might've blushed. He'd snapped too hard, he thought, spinning his head back around more slowly to give the impression that he was just gazing out on the room. He afforded a glance at her again as he twisted about, hoping to catch her pre-occupied with something else and having forgotten about him.

Instead, he noticed that she was still looking towards him, at least for a moment. Eventually, the bartender took her attention away, but he had seen it. The flush of blood to her face and the sadness that had gripped her. Had she been crying when she'd seen him? That hinted at something altogether problematic. She knew him -- she had to have known him or else why would she have grown so mournful upon seeing him -- and yet he didn't know her. He knew no idea what relationship they might have together. Could she be a sister of his? A relative of some sort from wherever they had come from? Had he set out on his trip to Atinaw in the hopes of visiting a relative?

What if she was something closer? What if she was a long-time friend, or a childhood playmate? What if she had been someone he'd shared a home with, or worse. Could she have thought him dead only to find him now? He waited for her to approach, running through scenarios in his head as his imagination went wild with the possibilities, but the approach never came. Instead, it looked as if though she was being consoled, and questioned. He couldn't hear the conversations from where he sat at the bar, but -- there were a lot of them now, and the general murmur of their voices was becoming easier to distinguish from the cheering and boos of the poker.

Maybe if he just played things calmly, it would all work out? Part of him wanted to sprint out of the establishment, but that would look much worse than just waiting for answers. What if she thought he was a killer? What if she knew?

He returned his attention to the wall, as though it had truly caught his attention, looking up and down at it, and occasionally glancing at the group to see if any of them were getting close. He didn't want to cause any trouble, and he certainly didn't want any of them to figure out his morbid secret, but if it came to it, he didn't want to be caught unaware either. Unsure of what might come, he stopped breathing out of stress, and began questioning whether or not he was supposed to keep his thumb inside of his fist when he punched or not.

[Leliana]

She heard Patrick's voice before she saw him. He must have come in through the front. When Dominik addressed his younger brother she jumped, panicked momentarily, and tried to get her emotions under control. For some reason she really didn't want him to see her so rattled. Leliana cleared her throat discreetly, swallowing the lump in her throat and blinking away the moisture in her eyes. A few shaky breaths later and she thought she had a lid on it--at least until Elinora joined them.

It was silly to think the astute patroness wouldn't take notice, as she did so almost immediately upon laying eyes on the outlander's face. With all three pairs of eyes on her, she glanced briefly at the Siltori sitting at the other end of the bar. They had made eye content before. She knew he saw her staring earlier. All she could really do was repeat what she'd initially told Dominik and hope it was enough to assuage them for now, albeit temporarily.

"I'm okay," she began. That was a lie. "I thought I recognized someone that I knew." That part was the truth. "The Siltori man sitting at the end of the bar," Leliana elaborated further. "I think he caught me staring at him. I should probably go apologize." It was a good way to escape their scrutiny for a moment, so she abandoned her drink and slid off her stool to approach the man. Glancing over her shoulder she noticed that they were all watching with worried faces. On the other hand, the silver haired stranger was making a very big show of not looking their way. She stopped near his shoulder and cleared her throat discreetly.

"Excuse me? I... apologize for staring earlier. If I made you uncomfortable that wasn't my intention. I thought you were someone that I knew--someone I know, I mean. You resemble him a lot at first glance." It didn't take a master detective to note the tinge of sadness in her tone. She was reining herself in well enough now, but there was no escaping the crushing disappointment after a hopeful high such as the one she'd just felt.

He did indeed look similar to her father, even up close. The way his shoulders sat, the long white hair, his handsome and almost regal features. Even his fine clothing. It made the knot in her gut twist all that much tighter. She fantasized momentarily about returning to her room to scream into a pillow at the top of her lungs.

[Patrick]

Inadvertently the presence of the white haired man, plausibly a Siltori like Lily was, had managed to garner the attention of the proprietors. In fact it was almost right away that one in particular, Elinora, seemed to appear considerably contemplative at the sight of him. She remembered very well after all, as it wasn't every day she received complaints as unusual as his. Yet when Lily leapt at the initiative to approach him, none of the others save for Patrick seemed inclined to stop her. It had almost been instinctual really, as he nearly brought a hand up to reach for her; yet the bartender refrained from ever fully committing to the action. Naturally Nora and Dominik noticed, thus the three of them remained stationed at their spot of the bar; leaning in close with one another to keep the converse over the matter.

With all the noise and banter filling the lobby from all the patrons, it made it easier to mask their conversation and to keep it personal; which when you considered the nature of the topic... personal was a preference among the group. "I remember him," Nora muttered with another brief glance shot to Lily and the man, "He's a Siltori gentleman for the most part, keeps to himself more than anything. A while back he popped in to have a drink, and found that a Gemling had snuck inside it."

"Wait, is that the one?" Dominik sounded surprised to recall the tale, while Patrick remained utterly confused about the ordeal.

"A Gemling? In our alcohol?" He checked with the both of them, Dom's immediate response being that of a puzzled shrug.

"Rose was the one who handled the order, only way I know the Gemling got there was by sneakin' in."

"Though not without a bit of luck," Elinora added in as she looked to Patrick now, "Twas another day of inventory. So it would've been easy for the poor thing to get lost in our shipment."

"You mean hide." Dominik corrected with a soft chuckle, leading the three to check on the one they worried over once more.

"Okay so apparently Lily recognized him?" Patrick remarked as that appeared to be the crucial point of the subject, however Elinora briefly shook her head with a finger raised to clarify.

"She thought she did dear, but that doesn't appear to be the case. My guess is she was reminded of someone, clearly he looked like a person from her past." As she guessed that point it didn't take long for either of the two men to remember, that Lily had actually become a part of the team at the Searing's Solstice. She never really came out with the fact she was a slave, much less how exactly she had ran away from her oppressors. Yet that didn't matter to the Barnell Kinship, not when their concern was her safety overall. While the Siltori she approached didn't seem to be anyone threatening, they weren't entirely comfortable with the thought of someone tracing Lily's steps. "Tell you what," the mother hen finally crooned, "I've been wanting to ask him about that whole Gemling ordeal, but haven't found a chance to bring it up with him yet. Since you're back though Patrick, would you mind doin' the honors for me? It'd help put my mind at ease, if we could learn what kind of person this Siltori man is."

"Sure Ma, no prob." Patrick agreed with a brief nod, being the first to lean off the bar as the other two did the same. Elinora spared a final look to the middle son, knowing that she could trust him to get it done. Thus without another word she slipped past Dominik, returning to the office once more as the older sibling resumed handling drinks. Patrick on the other hand wandered his way down the bar, standing behind Lily without uttering a word as he waited patiently. He didn't wish to interrupt any conversations they might've had going of course, just ease his way into figuring out just who the hell this guy really was. For whatever reason Patrick felt overly protective of Lily now, likely because the idea that someone tailed her set him on edge. Granted he was all rearing and ready to go earlier, when they noticed the sudden change in Lily's demeanor.

Regardless of how protective he felt over Lily however, Patrick knew she was grown and capable of looking out for herself. So it was really the other Siltori at the bar, the one Patrick would be getting well acquainted with soon.

[Althalos]

☿

The perceived issues eventually brought themselves to a natural head. While Althalos had lost himself in increasingly dizzying theories as to why he had been recognized and why his appearance had brought about such a forlorn and despondent response, the group of employees and family seemed to come to their own realizations and determine strategies for how best to deal with the situation. The activities of the Siltori girl, in particular, were noteworthy, as she apparently wrenched herself away from the company of her peers and proceeded to approach Althalos. He had turned his attention away once more to face against the pillar, attempting to make himself appear trite and unimportant.

Either out of ignorance for his ploys, or out of a rapacious desire to bring herself amnesty for her earlier actions, she spoke, her apology ringing through the air with the strength of a bell's toll, and stirring the undead elf from his mockery of a deception. He offered the faintest hint of a smile, beginning to calm himself at the realization that he might not be to blame for the sudden outpouring of sorrow, and that the fault may have laid entirely on her own imagination. In recognition that her mind had swollen with falsehoods, his own began to mellow, allowing his usual gentle and polite nature to overtake him in totality.

"That's quite alright. We have a rather distinct look among our kind." He offered in recompense for her apology, running a finger across his own hair to indicate the seeming similarity between them. "Honestly, I thought I might have known you too. Especially after --" after she had nearly broken into tears, he nearly said, stopping himself just shy of the accusation. "--after we were staring at one another." He said, finishing the sentence in a more acceptable fashion and indicating his own error in the matter as well.

They were joined by another who had broken off from the group, though this one was polite and respectable in his mannerisms, choosing to wait behind the young woman as opposed to bluntly interrupting their conversation. Althalos didn't believe that he had seen this one before, but even a simple glance revealed that he shared many features with others who worked at the Silver Lion. Perhaps he was a cousin of some form, or else a traveling relative who had decided to make his stay at the Inn alongside the silver-haired woman. Were they together? There was a definite closeness to them, though that wasn't indicative of a relationship, especially given that his role was almost certainly that of emotional support.

"If it makes you feel any better, this isn't the most awkward thing that's happened to me this season here." He began, though even he was uncertain whether it was out of a desire to play a card in his proverbial hand now that a proprietor was present, or whether it was an attempt at quelling the melancholy of the Siltori. "Ordered a drink, went to take a sip, and there was an entire living being inside of it. Proceeded to talk my ear nearly off, and then try to steal my hair." He smiled, because while the memory had proven to be somewhat of an irritant, it had at least been a comedic sequence of events. "So, really, unless you'd like to jump into a mug and then yank my hair out, I don't think a little misunderstanding is going to cause nearly so much calamity."

He bit at his cheek as a thought came to mind, a fledgling whisper of an idea made manifest only when he had begun to iterate it into words. "Perhaps... we were meant to meet one another. After all, there are not many of our kind in the city. Perhaps this is a fated meeting." For what purpose? To solidify one would be to eradicate all others, and so he left an open-question hanging in the air about why they might've met one another in so peculiar a fashion.

Finally, his address to the young woman completed, he lay his dead eyes upon the relative behind her. "Is everything alright?" He questioned, the smile still stuck to his face, though some of its warmth dissipating at the idea that another issue might arise from his presence.

[Leliana]

The tension squaring her shoulders relaxed incrementally, and she finally allowed herself a small smile. No harm no foul, it would seem--at least on the surface. The stranger's tone was calm, his voice soft. It put her ease immediately, though the disappointment lingered. Nevertheless her worries of offending him had been assuaged, and she found herself sitting next to him with in her interest as he explained the mishap with a past beverage.

"Tried to steal you hair? What on earth was the thing in your drink?" she chuckled, brows furrowed in surprise. "I'd say I'm content with what's my own, so I don't think you have any reason to worry about me trying to steal yours." It was in fact very much like her silvery locks--and her father's. This man was one of very few Siltori she had ever met. So few in fact that she could count each of them on one hand, and that included half-breeds like herself. Leliana had led a regrettably sheltered life up until being spirited away to freedom.

Did she believe in fate? The halfling hadn't thought much on the matter herself. If fate were a reality, then she wasn't sure she enjoyed hers so much to date. Born into slavery, mother taken from her at a young age, father missing, stuck in a foreign land with very little direction. But what if it were all preordained? Did that give this stranger real significance? It could be considered a twist of the word, meeting a Siltori that reminded her of her rather after returning from Loras--where in fact she'd met another Siltori man with considerable skills and credentials.

Could one or both of them help puzzle out the whereabouts of her father? She took a breath, feeling encouraged to question him further when the elf's eyes flicked over her shoulder and his smile faltered ever so slightly . Confused, she turned, mouth formed in a silent question to see Patrick standing there, waiting.

"Pat--what--?" She rose to her feet, surprised she hadn't noticed him before. He was uncharacteristically serious looking, face impassive, arms folded over his chest. Leliana looked between him and the Siltori a few times, then moved to give him some space to join them. "What's wrong?"

[Patrick]

While he had only caught half of the conversation that took place, Patrick had at least gotten a little bit insight about the event itself, in regards to the incident Elinora had mentioned earlier. So the Gemling really did hassle this man? No wonder his mother had stressed over getting to the bottom of it, at the end of the day he was still a paying customer no matter his origins.

So with that in mind, he waited patiently until finally, it was Patrick himself that had been addressed by the other man. It was at that moment Leliana herself noticed his presence, also noting that he had remained patiently impassive this entire time. With both of them clearly prompting him to speak now, of course, he eased up to let his shoulders hang lower, to project a more relaxed posture as he faintly grinned to Lily.

"Oh it's nothin, really, I was just waitin' for a chance to cut in." In essence it was true because he had a reason to wait for a chance to speak, particularly with the Siltori man who became a sudden regular. "Sorry! Never quite got your name before unfortunately," The bartender said as he spoke in a professional tone, "but I did catch wind of your story actually!"

At the mention of it, Patrick lifted his arm up to point a thumb towards the office door, "my mother's the proprietress of the Inn here. She makes it a habit to concern herself with every customer's satisfaction here, so when she heard from one of our employees 'bout the Gemling in the cup, well, you can imagine that as to how I'm here now." He assured the Siltori man with a positive grin, almost with a suave attitude.

"My name's Patrick Barnell, before I forget, and we'd all like to make up for that entire incident for you, ser." He offered with a tone of courtesy added in, hopeful that the man would accept it.

"Speech"

[Althalos]

☿

The glimmer of a smile upon the young woman's face was enough to inform Althalos that he had managed to treat the situation correctly. There were a number of persons around who might've been far more upset about being misidentified, and it was understandable, especially if one were to account for the amnesia associated with his condition. Nevertheless, he had little need for enemies when he didn't even know the identities of those he had possessed in the past. At any moment, a person could reveal themselves, tracking him down in an attempt to finish him off or seize his inheritance through force, and it wouldn't do much good to have a number of locals around ready to stick their accusing fingers in his face.

"I'm not really sure what it was. A living rock of some sort." He replied at her question on the nature of the being in his mug. He remembered the thing's name, but he still hadn't determined exactly what it was meant to have been. There was a nod at her contentment with her own hair, and he found himself looking at it, wondering whether the shade was as similar to his own as it felt. He supposed that if he could snatch one, he'd be able to more accurately compare the colorations, but he liked to think he possessed better etiquette than the stone from the start of the season.

An intake of air, a familiar sound was suddenly interrupted, and Althalos found himself wondering what she had been about to ask him. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to learn after the situation had soothed completely. The man's name -- Pat -- possibly a shortening, or perhaps a nickname, or perhaps it was genuinely his full first name. Nevertheless, it was good to put even the abbreviation of a name to a face, especially one which held such evident kinship with other proprietors. He revealed his intention to join the conversation, and the corpse extended a hand, palm upwards in welcome.

The usual introductions were mandated now that a conversation had begun in earnest, and while indifferent to many aspects of life, the pale elf had no issue with following through on the social rules. "I hadn't given it. I am Althalos." He offered with a respectful nod, his tongue running a line across his teeth as a playful thought came to him. "Good to meet you, 'Pat'." He uttered, his smile widening at the opportunity to state the other fellow's name before he had given it.

He made known his connection to the establishment, and the Siltori found himself scouring the other proprietors from afar, observing each of them until he had successfully identified the most matronly of the group. There were only two women there other than -- he hadn't gotten the Siltori girl's name. "I'm glad to hear that you care so deeply for your customers." He said, laying his corpse eyes onto Pat once more, attempting to maintain his warm disposition. He supposed that it was true that it worked out for the best that they cared because he didn't intend to find anymore living things inside of his drinks.

Gemling... that was what the little thing had been, then. He filed the information away appropriately, wondering whether there were others like them nearby, and whether they genuinely qualified as intelligent beings, or if they were more akin to pets. Now equipped with the man's full name, Althalos simply nodded, wondering what sort of reparation they would attempt to give him in order to solidify his patronage. Perhaps they would offer him discounts for the season, or perhaps they would prepare a meal for him before he arrived -- though he supposed that wouldn't do much good given his condition.

"Such pleasant company is a reward of its own, isn't it?" He quipped, glancing between the Siltori woman and Patrick. "But, of course, I'm not as wealthy as I'd like... what sort of offer did you have in mind?" A pause as he re-iterated the most likely options to himself. "And -- I have a condition, so I'm not sure I could eat anything here. Poor digestion runs in my lineage." He lied, running a hand along his stomach. Could that be one of the mutations of a Siltori, he wondered? Would either of them know any different? Would they even care?

Credit to Saej!