Styx is deep in the throes of envy when he gets stopped by the miserable guy with the guitar. The goblin tries dodging around him with no luck. Maybe it's his short legs.

"You're...what? Some kind of bard?" He backs up a little, feeling like he's in the presence of a madman. "What have you got to cry about anyway, here surrounded by your own kind, always getting things your own way human? Ugh, even the fucking chairs here were made for you."