(he isn't quite aware of anyone that comes into the bar - not relevant to him. if it's a problem, he can tend to it pretty quickly, and if it isn't, why bother? if it's someone who wants to talk to him, they will. therefore, large black eyes keep on the drink that is being prepared for him, a pout of entitlement because -- it's gotta be delicious and sweet to the point his teeth rot and his jaw closes on the first sip.

but then, the voice makes him perk up, almost too fast that a couple of strands that were in the messy bun atop manjiro's head fall on his face. it's funny, what a man who knows him, and at the same time, none at all. it makes him laugh, mostly to himself.)

You gotta leave 'em a little guide on how to make drinks that'll make me happy.

(claude has never failed him, even if it weren't... real.)

Man, yeah. Years ago. Went home, but now that I'm here, fucking terrified of these roots coming out. How you doin', anyway?