Omar glares at Kall, obviously annoyed. He waits until the figures of authority leave to respond.<br/>"Keep your mitts to yourself if you wish to keep them." Omar growls, the silver handle of his cane pointed at Kall's face, "and the fact that our names weren't picked from a hat is bothering me more than the sun." he adds and casually walks away, hoping he won't get bothered by anyone for a while as he withdraws a silver hip flask from his coat. After popping off the lid he runs the opening under his nose, enjoying the aroma within before taking a drink...