Gloriosus sat in the chair around the table. He ate daintily of the finger foods on offer, his Elven eyes missing little. The High Elf was not inclined to partake of the pipeleaf - such was not a vice that he indulged in. Although he did not care for it he would not complain if others did, even if his keen Elven senses ensured that he would endure the lingering residue of their enjoyment long after they no longer did.<br/><br/>His white attire was clean and spotless - such was one of the many benefits of the fleet and sure stride of Elvenkind. His cloak had kept him and his possessions well and dry during the heavy rainstorm.<br/><br/>Gloriosus raised his glass - a flute filled with a light white wine of wonderful sweetness and complexity - in kind with Nalrendramid. He bowed his head to the merchant took a sip, allowing his sophisticated Elven sense of taste to fully appreciate everything the liquid had to offer before swallowing.<br/><br/>A light, airy laugh responded to the Dragonborn's grand claims. The slender lips of the Elf tilted up in an affable smile. "Verily, good merchant, quell our enormous disbelief and lay plain what manner of trouble you are in." The High Elf said, his voice rich, ringing and clear. "For surely none us of might naturally deduce what manner of ill could be so great as to afflict one of your impeccable character, such that you would call upon us to set it aright for you." His expression was serene and friendly, playing along with the cordial setting that the merchant created for the group.