Swamped

There's a woman sitting at the bar, in the spot Monty was at earlier. She's glancing over the menu.

She's quite tall. When she sits, her head is just under your eye level. And the hat she's wearing only serves to make her look even taller.

The menu serves as a good excuse to talk.

"It might be a while before they can get anything for you," you tell her. "The owner and one of the staff are over at the hospital across the way. So they might be a little understaffed in the meantime."

"Just as well. I'm not that hungry yet," she replies. "They should be back by the intermission. So I'll simply pick out my meal now."

This seems like a good spot to drop some Kandrian names.

"I wonder if they happen to serve Duck Valache here," you muse. "I've never had it before."

"I don't see anything like that. Not a lot of places to get duck in this town."

"Pity," you reply. "Probably no Istra Manor wine, either. Well, I'll leave you to it. Hope the show's good."

You didn't really use the words as names, but it might get the informant's attention. You make a quick glance around to see if anyone seems to be watching you, or sending any sort of signal.

No obvious signs, though. They're probably fairly subtle if they're good at this job, though. So you look around again to see if you can pick anything up at all.

Well, one little thing catches your eye.