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[airwalkrr]

Khadmeade's jaw hangs open for a moment. He then forcefully slams the mug down on the table. "Well, it's about damned time someone knew somethin'!"

A moment of dawning comprehension spreads across his face as he realizes all eyes in the tavern are now upon him. Thinking quickly he adds, "...about makin' a good ale. I was gettin' a wee bit tired of this watered down stuff ye humans call a beverage. It's high time someone demonstrated some smarts aboot brewin'. My compliments to ye and yer brewmaster!" he says to the barkeeper. He then quickly pays his tab, discreetly pockets the card, and leaves.

Sunset cannot come quickly enough. Khadmeade must have circled Lancet Street a dozen times by the time he feels it is dark enough to venture to the address. As he has done a hundred times already today, he examines his beard braids for any stray hairs hoping to make a good first impression. He then steps up to the door and knocks.