A familiar voice drew Mithias' attention from the barkeep. Hardly any time had passed at all since he had come in. There he was, the raven-shifter with the snow-white hair. He seemed so much more warm and relaxed compared to the glaring, disapproving fiend Mithias remembered from the battlefield in Tennessee. Mithias stood and turned to face him, mildly frowning at the immediate slaughter of his alias. So, it would be honesty then. 

Mithias remained silent, replying with an affirmative nod as Bedivere gestured to a chair. He sat down across from the elder. "Lord Bedivere of Sinews, I presume?" So the whelp did know who he was addressing. How much more did he know? Mithias didn't crack a smile as he looked from Bedivere to the gossip-hungry public around them and back. He was pinned here, in Bedivere's territory, surrounded by possibly very loyal vampires to the vampire lord, probably even descendents of his line. He had to chose his words carefully. "I am in your debt, good sir. Not only have you spared me, but your recent invitation could not have come at a more convenient time. I have delivered myself into your hands as you intended. What is it you wish of me?" Mithias set his hands evenly on the table before him, sitting comfortably, his golden eyes beautiful in the dim light.