"Arathys Menenon," He replied, taking the seat offered. "a...A pleasure to be...to be sure." 

[i]Stop stuttering you dolt![/i] He chided himself. Why did he always have to be so awkward around people? He adjusted his own travel-worn robes, and signaled for the tavern wench to bring him a drink. As soon as she did so, he took a good, long pull from his mug to steady his nerves.

"Ahem..." He began, clearing his throat. "I am Arathys Menenon, student of Mytharion Amontel, a wizard of no small reputation amongst the High Elves." 

He continued. "And you, Mr. Flexner, judging by your robes would be a student of the Teresian College of Wizardry. Am I right?"

He paused, as if waiting for a response, but then hurriedly continued speaking. "Oh, what I am saying, of course you are. Well, have come a long way to attend your fine institution, and I was wondering you could direct me toward the admission office?" 

He took a long breath, chiding himself for his continued awkwardness. To much exposition, and far to wordy for a simple request. But he couldn't help him himself. He talked when he was nervous, and he was nervous almost all the time.