"Also..." Vyng raises a hand. "One of those tiny little umbrellas in the oxblood, if you please."

The bartender flashes them a thumbs up, does a dramatic spin across the floor, and effortlessly swipes two hefty mugs from the shelf behind him. Before long, he's pouring some loose leaf blend into a couple basket-shaped infusers with the same flair as making a Sleepy-Town Iced Tea.

Vyng, meanwhile, nods and leans back in his seat. "Nice."