Penny moves away from the door, and Pobble glances up towards it. The lines of vision and motion fail to cross in the brief second that the man leaves his writing and he looks back down and continues the scrawl. A hand reaches absently towards the beer. As he grasps it, he lets go and twists his book about, writing something quickly across the top line. A small red stain is left on the cool condensing caraffe.