The Tarantalong will return, but you may never meet this individual again. Curiosity stirs you to try to cling to the novelty of the night. [+Bile]
"It is my determination that I should come with you," you say, dusting off your breeches as you stand. "For your protection, of course."
"For my protection, fool?" They shake their head and grin. "Well, I am grateful for it; moths and starlight can be fearsome indeed."
You pay the final coin owed for your libations and head towards the door together.
You accidentally bump shoulders with one of the puppeteers who operates the Flenish knight as you exit. "Land sakes, I'm sorry," you apologize, seeing the ale spilt all over his shirt.
He just sniffs at you, sending a quick glance at your nameless companion. "Too good to stay with the company, are you?" he sneers before heading back to the bar for a top-off. You're certain he'll spread his snide characterization more broadly amongst the company. Just what you need. [-Surety]
Your new companion looks at you. "Professional friction," you explain. "Bound to happen amongst creative people."
They raise a phantom glass to you in tribute, catching you off guard. "To those who fail to fit in."
You blink. Slowly, you clink a pretend glass against theirs. "Hear, hear."
You exit the public-house together.
Into the Night