He shrugs off the point about the drinks, noncommittal. It hadn’t been a serious theory anyways, but he isn’t sure what else it could be.

“I’m not entirely certain about that, but at least in the town square, the only people affected appeared to the, ah, recent arrivals. I’ve been asking around, and none of the…” a pause, as he tries to find the right word, “…locals know anything about it, either. They could also be lying, I suppose. They’ve given us no reason to trust them.”

The words hang heavy in the air, as though they have a weight of their own.