The tavern you are in is just above disreputable. Many of the tables are sticky from the last patronís spilled drinks; the floor is a grimy mixture of sawdust, dirt, and old alcohol. The patrons are mostly working class; smiths, farmers, and the like. They have come in the same tattered and filthy clothes that they wear to work everyday. Their faces and hands are cracked and blackened by the rigors of their professions. They give you wary looks and go about their business.
You find a relatively clean table and sit down.As you are deciding if you are going to order anything, Melianthe starts to mumble to herself. You hear her say "I don't recognize him and I'm sure I know all the nobles in this area." You look in the direction that she is and see a clean, exquisitely dressed man sitting between two blacksmiths. He has on the finest silks in shades of purple and royal blue. His fingers sparkle with rings, and his opulent shoes seem immune to the grime on the floor. The blacksmiths, who stared openly at your group, don't give him a second glance. You find it odd that no one seems to notice him. In fact, you didn't see him until just now either. Melianthe is still mumbling to herself when the man sees you all looking in his direction. The barmaid walks past the blacksmith table to yours, temporarily obscuring your view of the man. When she passes, he is gone. She asks if you want anything and flashes a smile that is just short of a grimace. Melianthe continues to stare where the man was and mumbles. She then looks around the group in a daze, rubs her eyes, and orders something to drink.