My clothes are clean enough, unless I'm offending you with the smell?

[Nyx tilted an eyebrow up, letting it be a challenge. She'd lived in worse, hell, the classy clothing on her world was all organic, made out of living bugs that could adapt and let air in. A little snow on the outside of her coat, on her pants, was hardly worth fussing over.]

And I'm always fond of having my liquor sooner, rather than later.

[Nyx might be an unexpected visitor, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be pushy. He could try to throw her out again if he didn't like it.]