[It's not itchy anymore, really, just... incredibly uncomfortable. Like his legs have fallen asleep from kneeling for too long.]

It's more of a "pins and needles" feeling now.

[Normally, he'd pay attention to the signs that say not to smoke inside the shops, but they're alone here and, quite frankly, he's had a rough day so far. So he pulls a pack from his suit jacket and lights up, careful not to let any smoke invade Angela's personal space.]

I suppose tentacles might be in fashion for this time of year here. I wonder if they take commissions.

[Wait. That sounds bad. He clarifies.]

For a vase or something.