Clover looks down at the man, a frown forming on the faun's face, and shrugs, "Ah, well, that's a shame. We'll have to drink to him later! Just a victim of circumstance well beyond his ken. But, if you think we're going to stand here and bend over backwards moralizing about it, then I think you've forgotten something..."

He unloops a wineskin from his belt, and takes a long, deep draught before tossing it aside and glaring at the interloper, finishing, "We don't work for Iomedae."

The satyr extends his hand towards his fellow fey and snaps his fingers, announcing, "I think I'll be taking that!"

Spoiler: OOC
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Gonna stare at what's his face and also use Pilfering Hand to Steal the flower
(1d20+8)[19] Pilfering Hand CMB