"Seems right. This whole city puts the circus to shame," Qrow observes, with a glance around them at the glittering, prismatic natives and their varying animal features. The two so-called Moonblessed stick out like a couple of sore thumbs, but at least no one seems outwardly aggressive. Just curious, if they pay any mind at all.

With absolutely no idea what he is doing, Qrow sidles up to what seems to be the bar, where a gal with mermaid-like scales on her arms and face is pouring drinks. To Molly he directs a shrug that says 'fuck it,' before he flags her down.

A request for whiskey is already forming on his lips, but then Qrow considers that those familiar liquors may not be a thing here. "Uh... just get me a glass of something strong, on ice. And whatever my friend here wants."