"And nothing gets done from a dungeon," Antonio said, nodding back. "And you have to listen to people shout at you. Which is why I'm never getting locked up, if I want to be shouted at, I have the Americano for that."
"Sounds like a good idea," he agreed. "I'd like to see it."
He took a seat in the kitchen, a happy noise coming out of his mouth. "Excellent! They gave us horribly salty pretzels on the plane."