"You have no idea," chuckles Rashad. And really, he doesn't. "I'm well-traveled," he says ruefully, as if that would explain his ability to acclimate to the future with relative ease. "Though cars were certainly a surprise, I'll grant you that. I am doing my best to learn, but I don't even know what questions I should be asking. This place -- this dream -- it's a little more like home. The nice rooms, at least."

His own drink is more or less forgotten in his hand. He doesn't really partake unless he's under the influence of an emotion that prompts it; while his semi-mortal body can take a good deal of alcohol there's no sense in impairing his judgment and coordination.