[Ah, city development, the perfect distraction. Lorenz lifts his drink but does not drink it, giving it a considering look that is not making a face, not yet. He resists the urge to stare over at The Friends some more, politely.]

Meaning this in the kindest way possible to whoever coined those names, of course, but they're sorely lacking in creativity. Functional, I suppose. Straightforward.

[But not interesting! Or clever! Almost every city, or territory or town or small village he knows of is named after a family-- admittedly not any better, but at least they aren't calling regions of Gloucester "Northtown" and "Southtown" or something.

Now he takes a sip, though, and oh-- oh, Goddess. He's so determined not to make a face that he makes a completely new one, pinched and brow furrowed. Ooh, it's not great. Is this part of the strange dream experience...]

This is... what you drank all the time? On purpose? [He squints at the tankard,] Is there even a whole single grain in this?