"It doesn't bother me any, but it's kind of the witching hour." And before that sounds anymore freakishly obvious he elaborates, "Drunks. Crackheads. The usual rabble." So in point of fact he did not actually mean witches at all, he just means 'welcome to Chicago virtually any urban center, motherfucker nice young man.'
Change distributed he straightens up behind the counter and rolls his shoulders, gesturing by way of nod at a set of one of those block-hewn plastic tables convenience stores sometimes have. "You can eat in here if you want."
Technically he is required to ask people to leave after ten minutes, in case there are HUGE DROVES of people wanting to sit there or something, but it's 4 AM and he is in charge, so there. :|