Still grimacing from the nasty mix of Stout and Candy, Vulture just nods. He picks up a napkin and wipes his tongue off a couple of times to get that fucking AWFUL taste out of his mouth. A moment later he's succeeded, and makes a decision... he pops the sucker back into his mouth and pushes the brew away, "I s'pose... still... can't live with'm, can't kill'm, can't even gett'm n'th'sack..." Wow, that was cryptic. As it was, he too missed the beeline. He'll catch it on the way back.