The Green Star Inn
Shale
It seems that most, or all, of the tables/booths are rather isolated, and that you'd have to put more effort into being not isolated. Shale picks one and steers the group that way.
Guard/Strike
The barkeep doesn't bat an eye or hesitate as he slaps down a large tankard of ... something ... before the Warforged. It is the color of honey and it's smell is an odd combination of Jagermeister, grain alcohol, and transmission fluid, "See how that does fer yer -- the price is two copper lions. Yer'll be shifting like silk in no time."
Everybody Else
A scantily clad wisp of a server drifts to the table, hovers over the table while orders are placed, and then drifts up near the ceiling and disappears.