Another hobgoblin follows Alex through the door, strolling towards the bar with a sailor's easy, rolling gait. The bartender, seeing him enter, turns pale and immediately begins pulling on thick leather gauntlets, heavily scarred with scorch marks and twisted grooves.
"Ho, landlord. I'm Quagmire. Looks like ye remember me," Quagmire says with a sharp-toothed grin. "Just a bit o' ship's grog for me today, please," The bartender, with a sigh of profound relief, begins tugging off the gloves. Before he finishes, the hobgoblin casually tosses a small ceramic flask on the counter, sealed with lead and carefully secured with a network of silver wire. "And put a few drops o' this in it. Careful, that's acid fresh from a black dragon. I wouldn't get any on ye."
The bartender, hands trembling, quickly puts the gloves back on, as well as a heavy leather apron and a mask of wire-reinforced glass, and disappears into the back room with the flask cradled carefully in both gloves.
The hobgoblin leans against the bar and cheerfully turns to look around. Spying the other hobgoblin in the bar, he strides over, extending his hand. "Mutt! Been a long time, shipmate! What brings ye to this part o' the isles? Cap'n Canker finally come t'his senses and leave ye behind in port?" His friendly grin belies the teasing; he is genuinely happy to see an old shipmate.