R O N I N
Something like that. Oh, but could Ronin relate. Lips quirking in a crooked smile of his own, he tipped his glass in return and took another drink. The Rathskeller with its clink of mugs and low light and rumble of voices was more soothing than Ronin gave it credit, and he could certainly see why the man across from him had been struggling to stay awake when he'd addressed him. As he explained about the smithy, further recognition sparked in the ex-captain and he sat up a little. "That's right," he said. "I think I remember you saying as much.
Drumming his fingers along his glass, Ronin turned in his seat as well so they could better converse. "I'm glad to hear you were able to get it set up so quickly. That's no easy feat." But Tristan already knew that, hence why he looked and sounded so worn out. If his new companion was anything like awkward then Ronin either didn't notice or didn't care. An easy socialite with blood bluer than he'd like to admit, in his time he'd met more awkward people by far.
"Me? Heh, no offence taken, I assure you. I was in the Settlement trying to shoo some... stone monster, I suppose, out of the building I intend to turn into a guildhall. Mayhaps I'll have use for your smithy in the near future, if there's enough interest." He grinned.
