Reynold walks into the bar mid-way through the evening shift.  Looking around distractedly, like he is unsure of the faces he sees.  He takes a seat in one of the furthest corners from the bar and waits...passively, no expression on his usually animated face; looking as if he is in some deep trance.  As the patrons look around, some begin to notice Reynold and nod toward him.<br/><br/>"Hungry...." the thought begins to burst forth in his mind.  "HUNGRY..." it begins to move toward his lips.  When, finally, the word breaks the speech barrier, it comes out as "Aaaeuairiaofyujhga s g ooo h eert e," an indecipherable, guttural groan that lets everyone know he is present, but thinking he has gone mad.