"Ishay, Ishay..."

As Tama repeated it, his voice grew softer and softer. The name was familiar, and one he had only heard of fairly recently. In his head, the dots were connecting. [i]The way he's dressed, his language, his complexion, his name...[/i]

"Yes, sir. Ishay!" Tama had a hunch, and he could only assume, but he was pretty confident in what was running through his head. "Please, join me," he said, as he gestured to the seat across from him.

The waitress served him his burbon and Tama politely asked for another glass for his guest. "So, Ishay, you may voice any inquiry you have for me, because I have potentially hundreds for you."