Krysaos led Tycon to a few rickety rotwood tables outside of a small eatery. It was right on the docks, so they didn't have to go far and, obviously, the owner wasn't around to complain.
He'd spent some time earlier dressing up the most-intact table with the least-filthiest tablecloth he could find. He also managed to scrounge up a pair of wooden bowls, an oyster-shucking knife, and a couple of other things he thought appropriate for the 'Grand Commander' of the Wyrmslayer Alliance.
Personally, he was hoping Tycon would comment on the decor.
--or rather, Krysaos hoped he'd avoid commenting on the fishrot stench common to every dock in the Realm.
And the first words Tycon said were:
"Krysaos, you must try the oysters with this sauce."
Because, of course, that's where his priorities lied. The LT might have been the perfect guy to save the Realm, but he was probably only doing it because the Realm had decent chow.
