[As Thomas' eyes meet the storeowners, his smile freezes a little, his own eyes a little wild as the true nature of Jinx's mental state begins to dawn on him. The man at the counter stares back with a sympathetic little shrug, and quickly hands over the tray of drinks, which Thomas swiftly brings back to the table, expression long since smoothed over.

He eyes the guns with some interest as he sets the drinks down and slides into the seat across from her. He's never gotten his hands on a rocket launcher before - too loud, too destructive - but he's more than passingly familiar with mini-guns.]

I see your friends are customized, [he drawls.] I didn't know that they came in pink. Now, was it you that painted it, or did you have it specially made?