Lysander did catch the man staring at him. He gave the side eye and did his best to keep himself quiet, then made a show of wrapping up the remainder of his food. His sandwich only had two or three bites, but how could he eat while being stared at? He then gazed fully upon the fellow, frowning for a moment. The stare, he finally noticed, was the same kind he would give when studying history. He put his food away, stood and shouldered his satchel. He may as well make use of the situation, he was a practical sort.

"Pardon me," he said, his voice still accented by his Greek. He was proud of his heritage so he never let the accent die. "I was hoping you could direct me toward the nearest and..." he thought, pausing to do mental math at how much money he had to spend, "Well, most respectable for being the least expensive sort of place, an Inn." He did not know that he was talking to someone from an affluent family, let alone an artist.