Kalonice spirals closer to the tavern-keeper, a cheerful smile on her face as she curtsies in midair.  "An honor, m'lord."  The little Ellyl's consistently-proper manners are bizarre to be sure, but rather less so than her presence was to begin with.  "Where are these ships in from?"<br/><br/>Mentally, Kalonice is already going over the most popular drinking songs she knows.  Manners or no manners, a good bard always plays to her audience.