There she is. Ghoul snakes his way through the shop, finding his way back to the table-and-chairs setup he remembers. It's just familiar enough for him to feel a bit more comfortable than last time, and he slides in to a seat easily as he murmurs, "Rough everything, kind of." Stupid moon shit. "It's fine. I mean, it's normal. I'm not having weird side effects or anything. Y'know." Shrug. He finds his affliction awkward to explain still, so most of the time, he doesn't.

"How're you?"