[b][u]E Z L A N[/u][/b]
[color=Gray][i]At the guild[/i][/color]

As he was told to remain silent, Ezlan gave an exaggerated surprised and slightly insulted look, pretending not to understand why he had been singled out or the reasons for it. Of course it was a ruse, he surely did and was proud of his reputation. He followed the lie with a playful chuckle and a teasingly wide smile. Now turning his attention around him to his new comrades he looked over them all quite quickly and slightly dismissively. With a slightly harder-than-necessary nudge Ezlan elbowed Loran and whispered “Was a pretty big guy but recon I could take ‘im.” And gives a confident nod as they waited at the last door.

...

Ezlan had strongly considered the runners advice, he wanted to obey her, he truly did, but as the doors shut behind them and his eyes ran over the room taking everything in, he saw so much temptation and desire that it became painfully obvious that it was never going to happen, it just wasn’t even an option. It simply was not within his power. 

The gamble ahead was of one too great to pass up. The risks just didn’t nearly compare to the reward, let alone the excitement of the challenge itself. How could he patiently ignore an opportunity like this. He felt it deep within his bones, the excitement of challenges which if overcome would offer stories and endless boasting for the rest of his lifetime. 

After all, what harm could come from trying? Right?’.

For this, any reason or restraint was lost. thoroughly washed far from his mind. It was a gamble he couldn’t afford not to play. With a daring glee in his eyes, across his lips grew the most devilish and charming grin he could ever muster. 

As the old woman spoke, Ezlan subtly moved around the room.  
“Terrible thing that at Iron Harbour.” He said loosely in agreement as he listened in. By the time she had finished talking Ezlan was musing over the locked glass pained cabinet. 
“That’s an Ill’ean spiced rum” he said slightly surprised and impressed, turning back to face the Guild Master. “If I’m not mistaken.” He added in, looking for that sense of knowing pride in her eyes, keenly judging her expression. 
Of course he wasn’t mistaken, if there was one thing Ezlan knew it was his alcohol. 

“Nearly lost me arm trying to get a hold of one. Would have been worth the trade too if it hadn’t turned out to be a poor knockoff no better than donkeys piss.” The disappointment of those memories slipped into his voice, he turned back to the cabinet and tested the latch, gently rattling it.
“They say the spices come from the isles of elves, ‘Tredegar’ I believe, that is if it’s truly authentic. Do you know how to tell if if it’s the real deal?” He asked playfully, clearly setting up a punch line as he turned back around once again. His eyes deliberately catching her near empty glass and reminding her of it as he awaited a reply.