Ilven's spirits lift as soon as he steps through the door. A good meal, that's clearly what was needed to make up for an utter failure of a day. But still, nobody had died this time, that was far better than... honestly the majority of missions he'd been on, to the best of his recollection.

"A table will do...and a round of drinks to start us off." He returns the waiter's smile, and gives a quick glance to his companions, trying to calculate how much drinking they were likely to do. They were young, and people did talk about how any human could drink an elf under the table. Kalir hardly seemed like a lightweight either...probably better to err on the safe side, especially given the trying nature of the past few days. Ilven counts out five silver and passes them to the waiter. "That should cover it."

Once stable seating has been secured, he turns to Daun, a terrible thought occurring to him. "You do eat meat, correct? I've heard some rumors about you Glenndale folk."