"Rorschach." "Singrev, a Gold Level Adventurer."
Seeing that the other man was an Elf, Rorschach couldn't help but ask, "I see this exhibition is trying to prove to visitors that Gray Elves are a barbaric and ignorant race. Don't you, and your people, feel offended?"
After shaking hands with them both, Benedict put his gloves back on. "Mr. Rorschach, you've identified a problem, but you don't understand the Istanis or the Elves." He flashed a flamboyant smile. "To most Elves, what you just said is the actual offense. For the Elves of the Kingdom's mainland, we must never be lumped in with the Gray Elves. Those savages from El Island have another name, 'Mire Elves.' Or to put it more bluntly: mudbloods."
As he said this, Benedict's lighthearted expression vanished. "The exhibition has strayed from my original intent. So far, you're the only one who has noticed the problem. The two of you aren't familiar faces in Storm City, so you wouldn't know that I'm an actor..."
