*Tristan limps through Prantz, smelling strongly of hops and corn. He sees the notice and lets out a short sigh, shaking his head. He mutter to himself.*
"Seems he manages to make enemies whereever he goes, but I do not feel as averse to these actions as some of his others."
*He looks around quickly to see if anyone may have over-heard his mutterings and feeling confident of his privacy, limps along through the bustling streets.*