... sticking to the shadows, he smoothly moves to one of the tables in the back, and sits so that he can observe the entrance. He waves his hand in an understated circle and mugs of ale appear, smoking from the cold of being wrenched into the physical plane. Cere takes the mug closest to him, lifts it to his lips and tastes the ambrosia he's beckoned from his memory and the ethereal.
He looks around the room, stopping at each of the eyes weighing him, and smiles. "Come, enjoy," he says, "first round's on me!" He glances at the barkeep and asks forgiveness for the imposition on the tavern's sales with his eyes.
He looks around the room, stopping at each of the eyes weighing him, and smiles. "Come, enjoy," he says, "first round's on me!" He glances at the barkeep and asks forgiveness for the imposition on the tavern's sales with his eyes.

