Josiah didn't drink alcohol.
He never liked the taste – never liked the smell. His pa used to drink it sometimes – after a hard day's work on the fields, he had always figured that he deserved it – but he'd get rowdy after, and wild, and he wouldn't act like himself. The thought of not being able to control yourself, of having something, anything, interfere with his train of thought, was enough to make Jo stay away from the stuff.
But that didn't mean he couldn't benefit from people who did indulge. Loose lips sank ships, didn't they – or at least, liquored up mercs in taverns spoke more freely than the sober, stiff ones. Jo nursed a mug of beer himself – not to drink, obviously, but to fit in, even though he obviously did not belong her. He was a dainty thing, despite his hardened personality – his slender frame, dough colored skin, strawberry blonde hair, and honey brown eyes stood out in a sea of darker skinned Adelans, who happened to be the main customers in this tavern, out on the fringes of the Thunderblacks.
He listened to them gossip and whisper, keeping his head down, making eye contact with no one, not even the barkeep. He had traversed all the way to these mountains on nothing but a hope, prayer, and the hint of a rumor, that there had been a mysterious event that had occurred in this area, one where a whole caravan of mages had gone missing. Jo had to find out if there was any truth at all behind these whispered words – if so, the event was worth investigating. It was, quite possibly, the best lead he had stumbled across in a while, and it would be a lie to say that he wasn't a little nervous, at being in such a strange environment, with so much on the line.
Jo's hands shook a little as he tightened his hands around the mug of alcohol, feeling a tad nauseated by the smell. The laughs and bold statements mentioned nothing of the event, however, and Jo, who had been sitting here for a while, sighed, shaking his head. He looked up at the barkeep, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, and leaned closer, deciding it would be best to ask, instead of hoping the information would come to him.
"Barkeep," Jo muttered, his voice a dull whisper. "You hear anything about that event that happened, down in the mountains? About the caravan of mages that went missing?"
The bartender shrugged his broad shoulders, shaking his head. "You're not the only person to ask about that tonight. A gentleman down yonder asked about it as well," Here, the barkeep stopped, pointing out a man who sat in the corner of the bar, who did not seem to belong here either, just like Jo. "But to be honest, hell if I know anything about it. No one wants to head down in the mountains after hearing those damned rumors. They found be faker than fairy tales, but no one will ever know the truth."
Thanking the man for his time, Jo flipped the barkeep a copper coin, and got up from the bar, leaving his mug behind. He could see the man the barkeep had pointed out, the man who apparently was searching for the truth behind the missing caravan as well. Jo, summoning up all his courage, took a seat next to the strange man – it was obvious that he was not from Adela, just like Jo, and even though the sleuther knew nothing else about him, the fact that they were bother strangers in this odd place made Jo feel a little more relieved.
"Pardon me, sir," Jo interrupted, looking up at the man while clasping his hands on the table. "It seems to me like you're not from around these parts." His tone was very neutral – he was merely fishing, to see what kind of man this stranger was. Friend, or foe? Only time could tell. But if they wanted to know about the same event, maybe they could find some common ground.