"Cheers to you, comrade, and to our new forged friendship!". Mefy took a deep gulp and gasped enthusiastically, before he continued. "I find myself astonished by your wit and courage, you seem as sharp as the tool you are handling. However, I wouldn't count on the likes of me to put on a fight, if I were you: despite my size, I'm quite clumsy and unexperience in the arts of combat. Anyhoo! I believe - if I'm allowed to talk in all honesty, my friend - you shouldn't be so harsh on that creature, over there. He appears to be in horrible pain and anguish. Say, how about we come sit by him and we cheer up his spirit with a sip of this wonderful juice?" Mefy's display of unadvisable sympathy was not without a taint of well hidden pity. Pitty for the lone soul that was sitting at that table, but also pitty for himself. He had felt plenty of rejection in his time: he'd been forced to experience utter solitude, incomprehension, abuse. It was not advisable to approach a man who hadn't asked for conversation nor for help. Specially, since this man was obviously in big trouble. Furthermore, Mefy was asking a third party, our trustful Skyler, to play a role in his savior complex. It was a bad idea, anyway you look at it, but... Could this predicament result in an interesting tale to tell in a tavern, among strangers?