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>Walk up to the elsen.
The elsen, hunched over his bar as if he’s going to hurl, doesn’t notice you approach. The guy is practically nothing but shaky bones underneath that plain white shirt. The jittering of his teeth sound like rattling chains, black and charred. After a couple steps towards the limber elsen, he notices you, eyes dinner-plate wide and smacked with an expression of confusion. You aren’t sure exactly what to say first, but you are cut off by the other formal little chatterbox.
“Oh my god, there’s another p-person here. Lord.”
He knocks the small bar in front of him, unexpectedly, and it clearly hurts his hand hard. Reflexively, he reaches out his hand in greeting. It seems even the more diminutive elsen didn’t realize that’s what he’s doing. In some salvage attempt of this social disaster, you return the handshake.
“The inspection crew is here. I’ve never seen them before, only work stories… but- but there here. Something is seriously wrong around here. Dedan was supposed to be here to run regular inspections- did they take his place? I don’t know.”
Sweat is pooling at the bottom of his chin.
>Ask the elsen about who’s tending the cows.
>Ask the elsen about Dedan’s whereabouts.
>Ask the elsen where everyone else is.
