Evon Gnashblade, enlightened politician that he was, had seen directly through the veil of charlatan heroism that was this stage play. Yes, his percipient perception saw straight to the heart of this propaganda. Which was to say, it was the same dressed-up nonsense that Tuile had been feeding him since his awakening--or whatever the hell she'd called it.

It was with this realist's mindset that he noticed the other patron. Some human here wasn't afraid to call out the pageantry. Now Evon, he wasn't about to make a scene. Tallest nail and all that. But as far as other people went, it was a nice change from all of this sugary optimism. Finally, he could talk to somebody with a little perspective.

He approached the man unceremoniously after the show was over. "You seemed to have enjoyed yourself back there."