Quentin cocks an eyebrow as the man manages to get a hold of himself, at least enough to attempt manners. Learning that he wasn't a sailor was a bit of a surprise, he had the look of one but Quentin may have been making assumptions since it was a port town. "Well, that is the kind of local knowledge I require. From the look of it you seem to be a bit unsteady on your feet, is this a common occurrence?" He had a feeling it was the question was more to see if the man was going to be capable of remaining sober while they were working. He'd worked with drunks before and he had short shrift for them.

Before the man can answer a young woman slams her hand on the table and Quentin's attention turns to her. "That is probably the politest demand I've ever heard." He says mildly. Thus far nothing had seemed to ruffle the big man, though what that said about his character was open to interpretation. Of course, what came next would also be. *SLAM* He brings his hand down hard enough on the wooden table to make it shake and to once again get the attention of every person in the room. Such an outburst might have indicated anger but he was actually smiling at the young woman.


"Just who are you and why exactly should I acquiesce to your request?"

Evidently her negotiation tactic of not taking no for an answer wasn't going to work on him.