[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Johnathon Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Femnal[/center][/b]

So, they did know it was him... And he had tried so hard to be subtle. Sooo very hard. A multitude of potentially sarcastic responses swirled in Keystone's head as he descended the last few stairs. He opened his mouth to speak one aloud, but thought the better of it. 

Truth be told, Keystone had been in this situation before. Not [i]quite[/i] as publicly, but it's not like he hadn't done socially upsetting things in full view of the citizenry before. At least this time, he was clothed. Not wearing pants makes many situations worse, he'd discovered in hindsight. Now, for this instance, he knew how to handle it.  

[color=b8860b]"Yellow Sulphur, little squire."[/color] he intoned, voice flat and seemingly disinterested. [color=b8860b]"Any chemist'll have it, or a really good culinarian'll powder some yolks. Touch a little to fire. Air the room. Problem solved."[/color] Though detached, his words carried the feel of certainty and experience in the matter.  

He sauntered up to the bar and lay a silver coin in front of him. [color=b8860b]"Now, if my coin from earlier's no good,"[/color] he narrowed his eyes at the bubbly proprietor, [color=b8860b]"This'll have to cover my drinks tonight. I'll be havin' an ale, then. Bigg'un."[/color] His solid underclass accent seemed bolstered by irritation. 

[color=b8860b]"And I'll be looking for opportunity to recover my losses. Got talents to trade with, y'see."[/color]