Xas takes Shrieky's leaning as an opportunity to stare unabashedly at his neck; his hand moves an inch, too, but he doesn't want to be a hypocrite - or set any precedent for touching scars - so he diverts the movement to pick up his new drink, instead, as the bartender sets it down and turns her attention to the chocolate thing.

"Do they work at all?" he asks, not sure if that was an under-exaggeration or not. They don't look like they would work, but he isn't especially familiar with gills.