She feels that same restlessness in her muscles and bones, despite how she's still feeling the excitement from the day before, dulled now after having been offered a jar of hooch from one of her housemates. It's no Asgardian mead and doesn't have anything on Sakaar's moonshine, but it'll do just fine. Seven really is a lucky number, who knew.

The lack of nightlife isn't all that surprising and she's content to explore on her own, bare feet silent along the sand as the jar dangles from her hand. She'd picked a path at random to follow and ended up at the town hall again; there's one man sitting on a bench at the entrance and there's a few things that catch her eye, the metal arm being the most obvious one. But there's something about him that makes her linger: an odd sense of familiarity, some vague sort of camaraderie that she hasn't felt in a very long time.

Dry lips tick up at one corner in a half smile in return and she figures why the hell not, slumping down onto the bench next to him. She takes another mouthful of alcohol before placing it between them, a silent offer should he wish to take it.