He nods, thinking the problem over. As best as he can. It takes him a minute to reply as his own stately looking moogle drifts on by with a, "We were like a pack of-" He tunes it out.

"What's your usual weapon of choice?" He connects the two thoughts together. Slapping the bar is disruptive but, if they could figure something else out. The telling could be better and safer. Maybe.

His ability to think far ahead is shot to hell.