Mabel has a beer in one hand and an unopened one tucked under her arm. Don't judge her. She's pretty banged up from the whole monster mash ordeal - there's still a cut on her cheek that 'flesh-colored' bandaids don't hide, and a few more bandages up and down her arms. She's wearing short sleeves, exposing not only the bandages but an alarming collection of scars, because fuck it. She isn't going to bother hiding them around Hellsing. It wasn't like anyone cared.

Her plate's empty, at the moment, and she's considering the crabs. If she really wanted to try them, she'd have to admit that she's never eaten crabs before, and didn't quite know how to go about it.