This has been a strange day. What on earth and under heaven had possessed Sirus to take part in that silly, undignified competition he would never know. If only the Brothers back in Cassomir could see him, they would have a collective apoplexy. It would suit them, too. But that was another life. He was here now. Perhaps a few ...festivities could be excused. It has been three days now, which Sirus has spent in long walks in and around town. So far, nothing.

Oh Mistress of the Spire, what would you have me do in this town? What do you want me to do for Desna?

But patience. The Spire is Long and Twisted, as the Book says.

Outwardly, none of these thoughts show. The half orc 's face could have been carved from stone. The few patrons that came near took one look at the half orc 's cold expression and left in a hurry. As usual, Sirus finds himself eating calmly in the center of a circle where noone would sit. Just as well.

Suddenly, a full tankard lands in front of him. Sirus looks up, one eyebrow raised, to the young human he had just bested. Surprises never ended apparently. A cheerful young priest, from the caravan no less.

"This is. Very kind. Of you." Cordiality is in order
"Please. Join Me."
As an afterthought
"You shouldn't drink. Without eating. Something."

Sirus nods to the serving girl for another dish. His voice is smooth, polished, slithering almost and his face on of polite, aloof cordiality. He makes a polite gesture of welcome to his guest. Soon, the girl, swallowing nervously, leaves an extra tray.