For the time being, only two individuals fit inside the hooded elf's field of vision and scope of attention. The Forsaken, Coillena, whom he nodded once at - some form of cool acquaintance and perhaps professional respect - and the pot-bellied goblin with the receding hairline behind the bar. The latter, he exchanged a few short, hushed but heated words with; the conversation seemed to end on a somewhat final note on the goblin bartender's part, and the elf scoffed, watching venomously as the green creature half his size went about wiping a mug with a dirty rag. There was little else he could do though; in this house he was not the master, and so, without further word, he retreated into an empty table in the shade of the stairwell leading up the great maze that was the Scarlet Sage. There, he finally pulled down his hood, revealing a thin, sharply drawn face that actually showed the first hints of age. Steely silver eyes scanned the room in a reserved, faintly curious manner, as now was the time to register his surroundings.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>