Hugh was taken aback a little by how quickly they accepted them as their questors. No interview, like most high end, high risk, high profit quests. He stood silent, fading in and out of the conversation. The trauma of his last 20 years would come back to him in these little lulls of time between jobs. With a sudden cringe and grimace, he shook his head and brought himself back into the conversation, back to the current world.

He noted the dwarf, who seemed older and most likely more experienced than he. He had great respect for the dwarves. A great race and civilization, born into hard work and toil. He had less respect for just about all other races, especially elves. Creatures born into privilege, never working the soil, or toiling under the hot sun and in the dirt like the humans. But many humans were born into the same kind of privilege. 

Hugh was annoyed by the young elf whom came up and stabbed his knife into the table. The action caused him to give an instinctive low growl, usually found menacing and intimidating to most, but not pricks. A very barbaric looking man was always underestimated by an uptight prude, and Hugh had already formulated the opinion that this elf was a pompous prick, a level up from uptight prude.

"I say eat now and start in the morning. Fuck it all." Came his unholy language, as he turned and headed over to the bar. 

He grabbed a stool, from the selection, too vigorously resulting in it being destroyed. It fell completely apart in his hands. He was confused beyond belief. It was something that happened to him every now and then. He was very capable of gentleness and virtue, but the trail had made him exasperated easily. He noted that the bartender was distracted by the drow female's request and he threw the pieces out the doorway. 

Finally, he sat down next to the dwarf. "Greetings from one old man to another." He motioned to the bartender, and asked for whatever was currently being served with a cup of strong lager.