Irahl wordlessly accepts the mission by taking the card and scooting out of the booth, and away he goes.

He hasn't loomed up to his feet and reentered the world at large for a couple of hours now, so he pauses there like an ominous specter for a few seconds while he waits for his alcohol-laced blood to reach both his legs and his brain in adequate amounts. Vincent is enormous, but he'd bumbled through the space in an at least partially endearing manner. Irahl, on the other hand, moves up to the bar like a contract killer reporting in to receive his bounty.

Without so much as glancing at the other people trying to enjoy themselves, he finds the nearest opening at the bar and silently waits there for the bartender's attention.