[open] a cup for a weary traveler

Asgard certainly was, the number one place to look in for information. Many came here not just for the luxury it provides, but for business matters and info brokering as well. The Beastman strolling under the night skies, was no different than them, setting his eyes still, on finding the answer to the question he took most interest in. Unfortunately, expecting random people to provide a believable answer was most likely too naive to believe, since the war's origin was forgotten in history long ago; it was the task of young adventurers like him to rediscover these grand, important pieces of information. You might even call this blond man an archeologist, if you must; but his curiosity was carried beyond just that question and answer; it was merely the main goal in his life, nobody said extra on the sides was forbidden.

However, he might have taken these shady nights a bit too far, getting excited about the unknown atmosphere and air he was about to invade; a tavern at night that is, to Fendel, looked very suspicious. Enough, to put on a disguise.

Concealed under a gray, suspicious cloak, the Beastman casually strolled in, ignoring eyes laid on him as he did. One thing, and one thing only, did he plan on doing tonight. It was a hard task, not easily achieved despite most people's common belief. It was a task that involved perception and intelligence, as well as proper movement and the right volume added. It was, socializing. That's right, because through this method, he could find reliable people to count on to grant him information, spreading his network further to more ends of this planet. Not that it was too likely, but a guy can dream, can't he? At least hope. Fendel's left ear, concealed under gray cloth, twitched a little as it itched; but scratching it to ease the sensation could tell off his identity.

The blond Beastman sat his shady figure by the bar, next to a relatively young-looking man, looking through some notes. He had raised his arm slightly and ordered schnapps, plum flavored. Sweets, to Fendel, was energy. As the barman just turned away and prepared Fendel's drink, the man took a moment to snatch a glance at the notes his company had browsed through. From this distance, he could grasp the words written upon the pages, despite it appearing farther than it was. Looks like the first target was in order. Encounter number one: brown-haired... Cider-man.

"Those seem pretty detailed. Would you honor me with sharing them?"

He asked with a curious smile, eyes concealed below his cloak's shadow. This could have probably went better...