Golden Ale

Lured by the delectable scent of charred pork, Tycondrius discovered a lonely outdoor food stall. It was one out of a row of several others, but he chose that one.

...It was the only one that had yet to close. 

There was one cook, an older male with salt-and-pepper hair and a tired face. There was one other patron, a cloaked and grey-bearded dwarf who likely thought he was hiding his identity. 

If Tycon were a physically weaker gentleman, he might have spurned the occasion, fearing that he'd be robbed at knifepoint. 

He had no such concerns... and as such, patiently took a seat and ordered a meal. 

A few moments later, the human placed an ale in front of him. 

"Friend..." Tycon pursed his lips, "I did not order this."