Well, that's a no-go for me, then. I have to have a good cup of coffee in the morning. Absolutely essential. Though, I have to say, I'm sure the buffets aren't as bad as the worst mug of joe I've ever imbibed in my ilfe.

[he has no problem talking as they walk, letting Ace lead, drinking in any notable landmarks or details as they go. it's all absolutely fascinating, from the buildings to the native citizens to the wide variety of other Moonblessed who walk around, their bodies free of the peculiar shimmering patches visible on the Prismals]

It wasn't very long ago, as a matter of fact. I was visiting the home of someone who'd come to be a dear friend of mine, Pete Martell. He's a logger and a very avid fisherman, quite a sharp mind and a deft chess player, too, good old Pete. I'd come by to ask him some questions, because he'd been the first - unfortunately - to discover the body of a young girl who'd been murdered. He was kind enough to offer Sheriff Truman and myself a cup of coffee, but ... somehow, for whatever reason, he'd forgotten that he left something in the percolator before brewing the coffee.

[he pauses, both out of disgust at the memory and for comedic effect]

... A fish.