[Wade shrugs, setting off for the back room and trusting Garak to keep in step.]

I mean, never used to be allergic to any fabrics that I can think of, but my chemicals have been changed so much that who the fuck knows anymore. We'll just have to deal with that as it comes, I guess. In here.

[He pushes open the door, leading Garak to a sparse room filled with bottles of liquor and kegs of beer. In the center is a table with a few chairs. Wade turns to face Garak and stretches, drawing his hands behind his head.]

Okay, so. Should I stand in any particular spot or...?