Oliver raised an eyebrow as Sigurd simply strolled up and flatly questioned the two shady men at the bar. The knight must have been quite confident in his skills (and his investigative authority) to so brusquely get to the point, but the old innkeeper simply scoffed and paced away nonchalantly while whistling a tune. It would be better not to involve himself in such matters... but that didn't mean he wasn't going to listen. He just had to look like he wasn't listening. He began shifting around glasses on the shelf for no reason, but appeared quite engrossed in his work.

The two gentleman were not quite as amused as Oliver when it came to Sigurd's straightforwardness. The man on the left was the more heavy-set of the two, and certainly more imposing as well. His grizzled mug was dotted by various scars and the beginnings of an intricate tribal tattoo could be seen around his lower neck, although the majority of it was obscured by his clothing so Sigurd was unable to see what the tattoo was depicting. His hand crept to the hilt of his longsword as Sigurd finished asking his question, and he seemed like the sort of man who would actually be gutsy enough to draw it.

"That's no business of yours, tin can. I don't recognize that armor. Are you new in town? Viscen's new errand boy?" he jeered, his smug grin doing nothing to offset the fierceness of his gaze. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, but a swift kick in the shin from his friend seemed to calm him down. Reluctantly he removed his hand from his sword, although not without shooting a very cold stare at his partner before doing so. The other man was a little skinnier and lankier than the first, and despite not looking scarier, he was obviously the uglier of the two, the main factor of which likely came down to his grotesque hook-like nose and beady eyes. Unlike his partner's longsword, which seemed battleworn and very well-used, this man's weapon looked like it hadn't been drawn in quite some time. It would seem likely that the ugly one outranked the grizzled mercenary due to how easy it was for him to defuse the whole situation, but it was hard to tell.

"Terribly sorry about my associate here, sir. He's from the South Shore, and sea rats like him have no idea how to treat a knight in uniform, [i]apparently.[/i]" There was quite a bit of ire in that last "apparently," but the mercenary simply scoffed and shrugged, returning to his drink and rather rudely paying the other two no attention at all. "As far as our meeting with the Subrosian, well, you see that's actually quite embarrassing, but I'm sure upon hearing the full story you'll understand completely, sir," he chuckled. Unlike Viscen's obvious feigned politeness, this ugly fellow seemed to be quite charismatic and articulate when he wanted to be.

"You see, two days ago my associate and I had a few too many drinks, and we got into a heated discussion with that Subrosian fellow over certain... cultural differences. I won't go into detail, as things were said that I'm not particularly proud of. As the situation escalated and it seemed an altercation was likely to occur, we politely excused ourselves from the company of the inn and went somewhere more private to resolve our differences," explained the ugly yet charming man, with a sigh. "Before we could even draw our weapons, however, I noticed the innkeeper hiding in the shadow of the back door, listening in on our discussion. Embarrassed that we'd caused such a scene in front of the proprietor of this fine establishment, my associate and I bid the Subrosian good night and we went our separate ways. Can't say I've seen him since," he finished, with a sly shrug. Oliver was impressed. For a lie he had just made up on the spot, that all actually seemed quite believable, and his delivery seemed genuine.

Meanwhile, the Business Scrub sitting next to Syna made quick work of his glass of water, and promptly asked Oliver for another, although the innkeeper once again seemed content to ignore him in favor of listening in on Sigurd's conversation. Looking at him, it was obvious to see why the scrub was so thirsty. The vibrant green leaves that most scrubs usually flaunted had begun to wither into a darker brown, and the brown bark of his body had even shown signs of graying. It was as if he hadn't had anything to drink for days, which, for a race of plant people, must have been torturous. Despite Syna's apparently lack of interest in him, his eyes widened as he got a good look at her rings and the robes she wore.

"Excuse me, miss," he interrupted, weakly tapping the apprentice mage on the shoulder. While the scrubs were already known for their nasally, airy voices and manner of speaking, this one seemed to have an especially wheezy voice. "You seem to be a sorceress of some kind, by the looks of those rings. Do you take mercenary work? I've recently run into some trouble while out on the road and I'm looking for protection," he asked. "I was ambushed by brigands on our way to Rauru from Lynna City. They took my supplies, my wagon, and all my money. I barely made it here alive. Nasty business," concluded the scrub, shaking his head. "I've made the trip many times too, and never once have I run into bandits like these. I used to travel with this Subrosian trail guide, a nice young fellow, if a bit strange, but this time I thought I would go it alone and save some money. Look what happened! Oh, Treko, you old fool you..." he trailed off, his concentration broken by the sound of Oliver pouring him another glass of water, which he pounced on as quickly as the last.