There’s an easy manner about the man sitting on the other side of the bar that makes Hob feel more at ease with the situation. Balthier sort of exudes confidence in the sort of way that leads Hob to think things will somehow work out, even if there’s no way of knowing how just yet.

When it’s noted that he chose a good vintage, Hob’s smile turns a little embarrassed. “Guilty, I’m afraid. I figured we might as well start with the best stuff, just in case our trip is a short one.” Wouldn’t want it to go to waste, right?

“So, what’s your name? Most call me Hob.” A nickname, it sounds like. “Where did you come from?”