"Brendan" hangs about as requested, continuing to lounge in chairs or lean in corners, perfectly at ease in a space he has no real business in. Perhaps he's a bit dim, or somehow high, or just really that easy-going that he can let the intense strangeness of the last twelve hours roll right off his back. He covers a huge yawn belatedly and half-assedly with the back of a hand and then scratches at the scruff on his cheek. "So. Nice little operation you got here." He grins.