Strangely, most of the other tavern patrons seem not to care about how Esquie got into the building. Baldur's Gate is like that sometimes. Everything is someone else's problem. Barcus and the bartender seem to be the only people paying more than cursory attention to the duo.

"Well, if you want rocks," the bartender says slowly, "I reckon you want a dwarf or a gnome. Shouldn't be too hard t'find. Gate's full of all sorts--" and then, as if he's just remembering something, he turns to look at Barcus, as if checking to see if he's still around.

For a second, the gnome looks like a deer caught in headlights, at the man points at him, and he starts to sink a little lower in his chair. It's not that he's antisocial, or even all that intimidated, but he's not all that excited to be roped into a project on his night out.

Then again, he wasn't enjoying the night out anyway. He grimaces, take the last swig of his drink, and then gives Verso a nod and a helpless shrug, gesturing him closer. "No promises. What's the problem, exactly?"