He didn't know what words of comfort to offer Scanlan, or if it was even appropriate. The fact that what had happened between the gnome and his companions profoundly affected him was clear in abundance. As he thought about it, the sorcerer ran his palms across the dark, smooth wood of the counter. He was a self-made man, one who had never had friends like Vox Machina had each other. His closest friendships had been his employees. And all that was behind him now. Lost in fire and rubble.
"Yes, another, hmm? You flattering devil." Gilmore perked up his head and agreed, wearing a smile that made him appear perfectly chipper. His skill at subterfuge challenged Scanlan's own. "The green is from Everbright, a honey wine mead. It isn't my favorite, but it's rather popular there. A risky introduction to the metropolitan crowd, but--" he measured one hand against the next, "as they say about risk and reward. I think it would be an interesting conversation piece, since it is rather unique."
In interest of occupying his hands, Gilmore reached under the counter and plucked out a jewel-crusted chalice, one fit for a Hero's Feast, from the glass display. He began to dust it idly with small darts of gossamer purple magic. Eventually, the jewels began to gleam brightly.
"You have a new life here in Preya, Scanlan, we all do. It's not as exciting as adventure and dragons and the Underdark, but you can make it your own. It is a rare thing that a man gets the chance to put the lessons of his regrets to use in creating a new life."
Gilmore held up the chalice to the light to inspect it. He looked rather satisfied with his work, and thus spun his gaze back down to his gnome friend. "I know very well what it is like to leave everything you know behind. This is my second time. One foot in front of the other, Scanlan, that's how you do it. And you try not to look back. It isn't helpful."
With a craftsman's care, he placed the chalice back into the display case on its pillow of purple fabric. "Now, what say you about the mead?"