Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit...

Shilah felt the heat rise to his cheeks completely unwelcome. He was already trying to do his best not to stare without his body adding to his troubles. His head cocked to the side as the man stated that they'd just become very good friends and parties were something of a forte. However, at the mention of ale his ears flicked forward. He was always happy to share his craft. The rational part of his brain skidded to a halt as the young man threw him a wink over his shoulder. Surely, he hadn't just seen a hot, young man wink at him. No, no, no, must've been just a figment of the light. Shilah focused his thoughts on sharing his craft.

"I'd love to and dare I say I have some of the finest ale in these regions? I'm right over there next to that fire." He picked up two corners of his bundle so that he was able to carry the sticks and he trotted back to his little camp. He set out a few bowls and poured the ale. "Drink as much as you like. If I understand the occasion correctly we're not supposed to remember what happens to night." He chuckled as he picked up one of his sticks and started stripping off the excess branches, when that was done he set the stick aside. That would be the wooden spear. He lapped at his ale for a bit before moving to the next one. For the other one he stripped the branches off it and then proceeded to work on chewing a notch in one end of it for the flint spear. He paused to chat. "You'll have to speak with the man of the hour. He seems quite a character though I don't think I caught the name sadly."