"Oh, you have this too?" Matt's fingers walk over the little sigil pinned to his lapel. The hooked symbol doesn't ring a bell with him, but in his experience nothing good has ever come of a group identifying themselves by some arcane emblem. It's a sort of pale relief to realize that he's not the only one who's been marked, even if it confuses things more than it clarifies.

There's plenty to be wary of, but the second the stranger mentions the alcohol, it's the only thing Matt can focus on. The mask may hide the upper half of his face, but it doesn't obscure the way his nose curls at that. Boldly, he lifts the glass for a whiff. "I'm pretty sure we're safe there. I'm not tasting any lingering notes of armpit."