They were in a hurry--well, Kuja was in a hurry. He wasn't running, but he strode at a brisk clip and maybe that made them look nervous and therefore like easy prey. Or maybe the would-be thief just really, really wanted a new bow. Either way, the interruption was unwelcome. Kuja looked over his shoulder when Maria let go all of a sudden, then turned around entirely to scowl at the man, who looked like he was regretting his line of work.

"Quite. Did any of his blood get on you? Here." He whisked out a handkerchief from some cleverly hidden breast pocket and passed it over. It was silk.

Of course.

"Now, then--" His gaze fell on a little bar tucked away between a concession shop and a clothing boutique. The sign proclaimed Catoblepas and featured an etching of its namesake with a bottle of something alcoholic in its mouth. He'd never seen it before; it must have opened since the last time he was here. "I've never been in there," he said, echoing his thoughts out loud. "I suppose the promise is that you'll be too sloshed to lift your head if you drink there." He laughed. "How perfectly delightful. Shall we?"