'I'll drink to that!' Raven exclaims, raising his tankard in the air with vigor. 'Let's redistribute the wealth of Hyrule, in our favour.'

Across from the table, there is the quietest possible inhale when the light shines from within Alpha's hood. From the location of that voice, a man-shaped mass ripples, like a heat wave in Parapa desert; like a sheet of glass with too many waves in it, melting. And just like that, the cloaking seems to come off--melting. Like grass growing out of the air, Arco's hair leads the activity, which picks up speed, rending the Bard completely unhidden within a few seconds.

His eyes are big; his mouth open in the stencil of the sigh that escaped it a moment ago. The glass glides down to the table and--tok--comes to rest on the table.

I didn't know...

Arco's eyes freeze on Alpha, the former stiff with surprise. But when the crimson eyes look up and are visible within the hood...

Arco waits. Time passes. Finally, a change in the greyer Sheikah: eyes still as wide, and still as flat as always, they now have a completely different message.

Alpha is still Alpha.

Sheng Long strides into the bar, head held high, spine straight. He sniffs the air ( nerves, both taught and relaxing, sweat, iron, stone, endorphins), redolent with beer, wood shavings, smoke, and laughter.
He stands in the door…
(this is getting me nowhere)
And then unwinds. His shoulders drop and an open smile slides into place on his sharp features. His taught muscles, ease and smooth. Lifting the top that hangs around his hips he shrugs into it and removing a long narrow pipe from his bag takes a seat at the table.
Grinning around the stump he says:
The Goddesses be with you friends, can I buy you a drink?

The Lovers darken the doorway to the tavern entrance. Long black raven wing hair, caked with salt from sea foam, now tied back by strips of satin and lace from torn clothing. Hands grasped in desperation, and barely controlled desire. Casting a quick glance around they approach Sheng Long.

The Goddess blessings do abound
If you are buying a round of drinks for casual drifters.

OOC: Here's a nameless NPC to get some words flying, since Arco's preoccupied at the moment.
IC:

A quarter-circle around the table where Sheng Long sits, a Fairy, just over one handsbreadth in height, leans against a bottle twice as tall as he is. Tossing a tiny boomerang from one hand to the other in the sort of impertinent nonchalantness that only tiny fairies can manage, he walks around to the back of the glass bottle and glares up at you through it; his face balooning to a magnification fully the height and width of the container.

The fairy takes a moment to slip the boomerang, with some difficulty, into his belt, next to what looks like a sprocket of thread, but what must be, on second thought, a fairy model of the standard thieve's Garrote. A "Gag-and-Hack 360," you'd later hear it christened.

"Sit," says a voice that sounds as if it were built for a different frequency than your ears are created for (think Keese). "It'sa free Tav here." Sure enough, it's the fairy. He then walks around the perimeter of the bottle to stare confidently up at Sheng Long.

"And I'll havva Zora Wine," he says, stressing the words as if to say "Yeah, thass right, priciest thing on the menyoo." But instead, you hear a slightly less arrogant, "And thankie."

Hiro opens the door. The light streams into the dark tavern. With about everyone in the bar looking at him, he says, "He's back! He's back to kill us all! Re---" annd he faints.

The Lovers rise quickly and cross the bar.
Fresh water and a towel, if you please barkeep!
You poor dear!
The woman props Hiro’s head in her lap and a soothing song mummers from her lips and the man places the cool wet towel on his forehead.

A few minutes later, Hiro awakens. "Ugh... Remix is back. He survived. I have to kill him! I was looking for more Eclipse Mirages, when Remix jumped in front of me! He Defeated me and I had just enough energy to get me here. He has the fire shard, but I have been Infused with some of it's magic. I can wield fire, but so can he. He also has obtained The other shards. If he gets my Secret Madallion, of the Medallions of Chaos and Twilight, he will destroy hyrule. I am still the only one who can beat him, unless... no..." Hiro gets up, and runs out.

Staring at the door with eyes of deep sadness as though something great was lost, the lovers stand and turn to an embrace. As they part their faces are bathed in a fervent joy.
At least someone is still fighting.
They whisper before returning to their seats by Sheng Long.

Seeing the two-as-one return Sheng Long's face cracks into a wide smile:
I do not understand the ways of these people. They run around screaming bits of nonsence at the tops of their lungs as if everyone understood the inner workings of thier mind. Please sit, drink, It is good to meet someone who will respond to me with more than mutters and curses....

A soft laugh drifts across the table carrying true mirth and enjoyment.

Yes, what does worry bring but a belly full of pain and grey hair? The proper way for grey hairs is for good experience and wisdom. Such brooding is bad for the humor and the health as well. Everyone is part of every story, no battle is won alone, and it is foolish to think that there is only one way to approach any situation. Such thought is the sign of a despairing nation. And why be antagonistic? We do not know all paths, and the person insulted today may be a new friend or enemy, or even the man to protect your back at the last moments; it may even be a brother that has never been meet. Why lose on such rich oprotunities? But you already know these things, I can see! Please forgive my ramblings!
The man places his fist over his heart and pounds on his chest three times. After a brief nod, the man’s face breaks into a wide smile.
And forgiveness we must ask for again for we do not know what you are called…

Grining wildly, and bringing his fist to his heart in a similar gesture, Sheng Long says:
Of course forgive me, my name is Sheng Long. It means Wolf in my Master's tongue. Please tell me your names.
He says this, reaching into his bag he removes a long pipe, built like recorder with a read and holes doen its length; but with a bowl at the end as if for smoking. He reaches into the small bag that hangs from his necklace and produces a small measure of dried leaves.
And you will smoke with me, of course...

He hands the lit pipe over saying

you are new to this place as well? That is a shame. I must speak with some of the locals....

Wolf… Sheng Long. The name speaks of strength and beauty. Nothing is quite as impressive as watching a wolf on the hunt or playing with the pups of the pack. Mournful the wolf raises its voice to the moon and with hackles raised and teeth bared it is truly a marvel of power. In our culture one is given a name at birth; as a human preoccupation to name number and place all things in categories it seems that giving a name to be compulsorily.
Fingers brush a shoulder.
This brings to mind a question of what if things are named wrong? It at first seems quite silly to think that by calling a thing by a different name would change inherent qualities. Yet what would happen if everyone would declare the rose to be a weed? Soon they would be plucked from gardens and thrown in the compost pile.
A soft sigh passes parted lips.
It matters not the names that are places upon things, for human perception will only muddy the true beauty of all things. In our culture true names are found by the individual in life, and no one can take or give that name, for it is inherent. It may be the likenesses that one shares with a wolf or in the true and total self giving that someone shares with someone.
The man takes the pipe and runs a hand down it admiring it simple beauty with all senses. He pulls a long breath savoring the flavor and hands the pipe to the woman who receives it as though it were a holy relic or a precious child. After she takes her breath of the tobacco, they embrace. The smoke curls around them like a protecting veil as they lose themselves only to be found in each other.
The woman hands Sheng Long his pipe back.
It is good to meet such a fine man and a new friend. If there is anything we could do to help, please let us know.

Good, I would gladly except the aid of one such as yourselves. I am looking for someone... He will be leaving signs of his coming... I do not know what they might be. But he is the kind to announce his pressence. If you find anything out of the ordinary, though for you as well as I; strangers in this strange land, discerning odd from normal that might be dificult.

Taking the pipe back he inhales deeply, its spicy odor swims around him clouding him from vison, rising to mix with the soung of laughter and the swagger of the other patrons, and the cumin smell of hard labor and clean sweat...

A soft chuckle drifts across the table, full of true happiness.
It is a good day to meet one such as yourself! We will keep our eyes open for this man.
The woman raises a delicate hand to her lips in a pensive gesture a far away look appears in her eyes.
I see red paint in an otherwise clean city, the rambling words of a vagrant, yes. Or perhaps some misguided youth.
She looks down with deep watery eyes and a frown.
‘I am like Jack’ I believe it was. I haven’t seen much graffiti around this place, and there were a few more around in the same paint perhaps… The few I have seen were similar.
A hand reaches around the woman and pulls her close to himself, comforting.