Jebelam eyes Szivar, with her sudden up-frontness. She holds her tray as she gives a drink in an obsidian glass to the cloaked figure. "Don't know much, really. I know they're here doing what all armies up here do, fighting the demons... and each other, as usual."
An eldritch sigil appears beneath her tray and allows it to float there as she puts her hands on her hips. "But I'm just the barkeep, so do you want a drink or not?"