Zelgadis notices the dark figure against the paleness of wood and sand as he's exiting a small office with a fading "Veterans" sign on the front window. He narrows his eyes as he sees one would-be thief jolt away from him, clutching his hands. It doesn't take any effort for Zel to feel the ripple of magic so he forgoes returning to the house and crosses the road to him.
His stone brows knit as he looks over the man, his clothing and holstered items- and not the least, the wound at his neck. He frowns but the paper at his cravat flutters in the seabreeze. Reaching out he plucks up the note to read.