"Eh? What's that? My story?," Siveris asks, arching his eyebrows at the tiefling's question. "Well, I hardly think that's any of your busine-," the gnome's snappy retort breaks off as he notices an object in the tiefling's pocket. "Say, what's that you were reaching for? A wand? A rod? Are you an arcanist then?" Siveris' peevish expression suddenly evaporates, leaving his face blank, and for a moment you can almost see the wheels in his head spinning rapidly as he processes this new datum.
"You know I myself dabbled briefly in the manipulation of arcane energies in my youth. Before I discovered the subtle power that can be distilled and bottled with a modest knowledge of herb lore and alchemy, that is." Siveris pauses for a moment, taking a large sip of his port and swilling it around in his mouth as he sizes Esraethan up. Then he offers his hand to Esraethan, and in a much more friendly tone says, "Well met friend. My name is Smythe. Dr. Smythe, though you may call me Siveris. I'm the proprietor of Siv's Salves, the apothecary at the corner of Clacker's Run and Carenvale Boulevard down in Cobblestop, perhaps you've heard of it? Or, maybe I should say the former proprietor, what with the events of the past week..." the gnome adds in a mumbled undertone.
"But tell me about yourself friend. You're an arcanist. Are you also perchance an adventurer?," Siveris asks brightly. "I've heard it said that many like yourself come to this tavern in search of fame and fortune, and that the lucky survivors often find it."