*Granite, abruptly left in the lurch, surges upright. Grabbing a few pieces of salt pork for later, he stumbles along in Rana's wake.*
"M'pardon lady elf, lil' dragon, I was finishin' m' breakfist. Rana's a friend o' mine, an we're lookin' fer the same kind o' things. Mind if I join ya?" he asks politely, though slurred.
*Granite is a solidly-built dwarf with a fly-away beard and hair that look like they haven't seen comb or water in months. His clothes are well-worn and travel-stained, simple canvas pants and shirt, held up with a fine leather belt. Well-tooled leather bracers grace his wrists, and he wears a ring on each hand. On one side of his belt hangs a blue-tinged mug, a hook for the other is on the other side, but that mug is in his hand. A sack at belt holds a pottery pitcher that he uses to top off his mug every now and then. His eyes are bloodshot, though kind, and his feet are dusty, and wrapped in red leather sandles rather than the usual boots.*