They're crawling like roaches, but at least it's not spiders. [ This is too easy he thinks, with a light huff. Even with everything a bit too bright after the miasma shrouded darkness, some things he really doesn't need to see.

But as for things in his field of vision: he looks at the mostly untouched drink and shakes his head. He leans on the bar rather than sit, as he debates several things but ultimately just decides to go with his gut. ]

I still owe you, right? What kind of clothes do you want.