Strygwyr hops out of his chair, tonfas habitually in hand, and meanders over to the coffee counter. He leans over the counter in a somewhat dog-like fashion and sniffs. "...empty." He says piteously. 

Mithias heaves a sigh, resisting the urge to pat the armed creature. 

The tribal animal then begins sniffing in the direction of the box Mithias had brought in. 

"Erm. Those are mine, sir. I'm collecting them." Mithias swiftly rushes over to pick the box up out of Strygwyr's reach, but the bloodhound had already reached in, pulling something out of the box. "Hey! Please don't take that!"

A pickle, a pink hat, an angel feather... fall out of the jostled box, as Strygwyr leaps over the bar, growling protectively to keep what he stole. 

Eclipse gets up at their table across the room. "Malicious thievery!" He scowls.