As Alan waited for his food, he glanced back to the bar, where several beers stood, two full. Another kind of fermentation, Alan enjoyed alchohol greatly, and had had plenty of it back home. Alan couldn't help but think that it was a shame someone would run up a tab like that and just leave. At the mention of tab, Alan suddenly released that he had no money to pay for the meal he was awaiting. A strong stench was coming from the kitchen, and as Alan turned his head, he saw a waiter coming out with a dish of raw, fermented trout. It was too late o turn back now, so Alan had no other choice. When the waiter put down the dish in front of Alan, Alan pulled back his bandana, extending his mandibles to a threatening position. It was just enough to surprise the waiter, giving Alan a chance to grab the rakfisk and shove it into his hoodie's pocket. He then ran away as fast as he could, taking a small detour to grab the two full beers. [i]Just like old times.[/i] he thought, looking back to the still disoriented waiter. Out of nowhere, he flew through the air, flipping over onto his back, a beer falling out of his hand, spilling everywhere. He looked up to see a cast of familiar faces, as well as a now alchohol soaked red haired boy he had apparently tripped over. Smiling awkwardly, he looked around at the faces around him, taking a sip of the beer still in his hand.

"Hey, what a coincidence [s]running into[/s] meeting you guys here! How ya doing?"