Drinking fancy gin is best done witching hour adjacent with hot mystery girls, she's found. Even if it's because they're trapped in the same makeshift storm shelter. So Crysta's fingertips nudge the second glass forward. There are in fact normal-people mixers and citruses around, should that be appealing, but Crysta doesn't offer. The way someone makes a drink is always revealing, and she wants to see.

She turns her attention to the cacophony outside the window, and wrinkles her nose. "Why do you think it's happening??" She asks, more for curiosity's sake than any illusion she'll get a real answer.