[Boothill watches Sunday go, once again struck by the absolute absurdity of the situation. How exactly did this place manage to grab both of them and drag them here? Why them specifically? Is there even any rhyme or reason to it?

Eh, thinking about it won't do much good, so Boothill moves to sit in a nearby chair, since the shade of the umbrella certainly helps. Not that he really needs it, given his temperature can be controlled, but it's still nice to have the sun out of his eyes (oh, how he misses his hat).

Sunday returns, and Boothill grins; poor guy got his wing wet, oh no...]

Thanks. [And without any hesitation, Boothill accepts it and takes a sip. Then another. He inclines his head a bit and takes a third.] Huh. Not as bad as I was expectin'. Still wouldn't be able to finish off the rest of this, but we made a good dent in it.

[One half-finished drink obtained!]