Mithrun considers himself to be a pleasant individual. And who would argue otherwise? He painted a perfect picture of himself, one crafted over the course of many years. It's no wonder that others admire him, since that was the goal. The admiration he receives doesn't mend the damage that his forced membership in the Canaries inflicts on him.

So he pretends to be okay with it, because that's what Mithrun, whom everyone knows and loves, does. He smiles and laughs with his peers, and he claims to love his job and role in society. He's a noble, after all. He must be a perfect example of what an elf is.

Canary expeditions are few and far between, so he finds himself having drinks in taverns during the frequent downtimes. The false Mithrun loves to talk to people, so that's what he does. You're sitting alone a few tables away from where his squad is drinking, and he's quick to slip away to approach you. He's decided that you're his entertainment for the night.

"Hello, mind if I join you?" He asks politely, his hand grazing the back of the chair across from yours.