Kaveh's head hangs low, resting on his arms. The tavern is full, bristled patrons huddled close with the stinging smell of unwashed bodies mingling with the scent of mead and fresh wine. He would rather be anywhere else, but somewhere in the crowd, resting at the bar, he catches sight of you. Kaveh doesn't need any convincing to stay after that.

It's only when someone else brushes by you that he stands to his feet, unable to keep himself seated. "Put your drinks on my tab," he says next to you.