[ Qubit wrinkles his nose. ] Then why have a contest at all? If they're just going to ... to flout their own rules, arbitrarily?

[ He peers into his mug. Just dregs and tea leaves. ]

... Might as well have a ... "kiss up to the innkeeper" contest. Save everyone some time.

[ Sort of looks like a face in there, if he unfocuses his eyes. But... then he finds he can't get them to refocus. He rubs them with the hand he's leaning on, squints into the cup. No dice. The paw plant's still readily visible against the black tea leaves, but otherwise...

Heeeey, wait just one second. ]

What'd you say this stuff does aga...

[ That's all the further he gets. The mug slips from his hand and clunks onto the floor, and Qubit slumps forward, his face smacking the table as the rest of him goes limp.

Good night. ]