"Sir The Best in Thedas of House Better Luck Next Time," he said as he straightened his posture. Blasted, he thought after briefly pausing. If his skin was a shade lighter, the red in his cheeks may have shown. "Ahem. M'name's Rili, and I am here for your offer." 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a red liquid that held a faint and swift shimmer, an accidental shimmer to his annoyance. He placed it on the table and nodded once. 

"Elfroot, spindleweed, blood lotus, rashvine... I know my way around herbs. I do not claim to be an alchemist, but how many people can say they know someone who can stop that itch, or give some bandits a bad case of explosions?"

He may have overstated his skill in brewing potions—he never gave full attention in his herbalism lectures—but revealing his magical abilities so soon, proclaiming to be a mage in an establishment full of sleepers, soporati as he shamefully used so often, and before the crew's lives depended on it, it was a risk he did not wish to take. Lies are distasteful, he thought to himself, as would giving people reasons to fear mages.