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Gavriel busied himself inspecting Bear's wound as the conversation between Bear and the journalist ensued. The wound had stopped bleeding thanks to the potion that the Miqo'te had given him.
The journalist turned to Gavriel,"I'm sorry. I've been neglecting you. I missed your name outside."
He responded coolly and seemed preoccupied, "My name is Gavriel. Gavriel Venitiago...." He didn't ask the journalist's name in return.
After a bit of searching, the Elezen woman had retrieved all that Gavriel had asked for. He could read the veiled look of scorn on her face. "Thank you," he said, making eye contact for a moment.
After a while, the young Miqo'te sell-sword reappeared and put her hand on Bear's shoulder. The journalist offered her a seat.
"Would you like my assist?" she asked, "My stomach does not turn easily."
Gavriel's attention returned, "Yes. Actually I would."
His intense gaze rested on the Miqo'te, "I need you to hold his arm. He will flinch away from me no matter how dull this rum makes him. He might rupture an artery. This is very important." His rough expression seemed to fade as he spoke to her. His face was gentle his eyes were sincere.
"Now Bear, you'll need this. Don't go biting your toung." He drew a knife from his belt and put the leather-bound hilt up to the Roegadyn's mouth.
"Alright then!"
Gavriel grabbed the two shots of foul whiskey in either hand. The first he gulped down with a satisfying grunt. The second he splashed onto Bear's open wound.
He went to work.
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Gavriel Venitiago