[Roland's irritation changes smoothly into interest, raised eyebrows, because he knows a thing or two about stories and thinks he recognizes one here, thinks he sees the man chewing on some kind of story and talking very carefully around it. He isn't going to pretend he didn't notice that hesitation, but neither does he pry into it. Roland has more pressing problems.]

Familiar enough to break this damned joke of a curse? I've broken a few in my time but Asgard's magic is...

[He sighs, not really thinking about whether he's overreacting. Of course he's not. His hands have been fucked over enough as it is.]

It doesn't always work by the same rules I was taught as a boy. I expect whoever's name this is has something to do with it, but finding one stranger in a city full of drunken celebration is going to be a trick. I don't suppose...?

[He holds the thing out to display the name written on it, one Roland does not recognize. He does not, after all, know this man's name. He might get lucky.]