As the half-elf observed the drunkard excuse himself to the stairs, he thought of the name uttered by his newfound companion. Numenor... This name had history, as well as a certain weight, most of it in the underworld. That explained why Urdal had felt this strange air about the man - he was, indeed, a very skilled individual. That skill was not evident at the current point in time. In fact, Numenor appears to be a bumbling fool, barely speaking correctly, slurring the ends of his sentences and lacking the ability to stand by himself. Alcohol was a very powerful substance, but Urdal did not believe it could so easily wipe the slate clean, at least for a few hours.

 The half-elf noticed that he would need to support Numenor, if he remained in his drunken state after coming back. There was another thing which did not evade his perceptive eye, that being the low number of recruits who had contacted him. At the moment it was one. One was not a satisfying number. At the very least, Urdal did not feel comfortable with only one person. Bed need at least three more. Make a bigger party, maybe a tiny coalition... Scare off smaller creatures, surround bigger ones... Intimidate bandits... That kind of thing. It wouldn't happen with one person.

 Thinking of those things, the high-elf stood up and started walking back towards the corridor. It was a central spot, one which every patron had seen at least once, so he knew they would be able to find it through their drunken haze.

"I'm still hiring!" He announced as he made his way to the pseudo-entrance of the tavern.