Noticing both the odd inhuman-looking mage, and the quiet mage in the corner, Jake called over to them. "You there, magi. What a pleasure. Could I please either of you with the offer of fine wine and food at my table? This small slum couldn't hope to satisfy the tastes of accomplished wizards such as yourselves?' Smiling, Jake holds out a bottle of vintage wine, elven make. Not his preference, but it was less of an acquired taste, and more commonly liked. He was sure his guests would prefer it, as he knew his taste to be rather peculiar.