Quezan felt pain.  His joints were screaming at him for the position he slept in last night.  He lifts himself up, causing the lid of the crate to clatter to the floor.  The cook turns to the sound, knife held ready for defense.  Quezan stretches and quickly takes in his surroundings.  He then addresses the cook. 

“Hey babe, what tavern am I…wait, is it morning?  Oh no!  I missed the ship!  Poopies!”

Quezan clambers over the edge of the crate and promptly falls to the floor.  He slowly regains his feet wincing with the effort.

“Owee.  Leg cramp.  Oh, Quezan, you have messed up this time.  Lady Draggy is on that ship and you are stuck here unable to be with her.  Well, might as well grab a quick bite while my legs recover.  Say babe, what have you got—“

Quezan goes silent as the look from the cook could wither an oak in three seconds.  The cook grimaces as she makes an unfriendly pointing gesture with her knife at Quezan then points at the table where an old man is sitting.  The cook watches Quezan as he moves to obey.  She makes a mental note to have a chat with the captain about hazard pay for morons in her galley.  Quezan limps toward the table giving the old man a smile. 

Xandius eases himself onto a chair.  He inhales deeply to enjoy the smells of the cook’s handywork.  When an elf appears out of one of the galleys crates, Xandius thinks the worst and calls out to the cook.

“Excuse me, Miss cook, but you should know that I refuse to eat anything that contains elf.  Or any other sentient being for that matter.”

Xandius notes the cook seems rather irate.  He breathes a sigh of relief when the cook spares the elf’s life.  Regardless of how good an elf might taste and how hungry Xandius currently was, he could not bring himself to ingest that kind of fare.  Xandius nods to the elf in greeting.