"It cannot be that you've heard of me," you say moments later, astonished, when the hunter's face flashes with recognition after hearing your name.
"I've a friend or two at Westfenster," they say, waving an airy hand, "and staying in Her Majesty's esteem is no mean feat."
"You flatter me," you say with a sideways smile.
The hunter is an intriguing companion, with a quick wit and confident countenance. They also drink in elephantine quantities, flagging down a barmaid at what seems every third sentence.
You rub your fingers against your cup, contemplating your relative rates of drink.