Draven looks at him, and his eyes narrow on seeing the map. He's about to speak, about to reject and go alone, but what else Davesprite says...he sighs, brushes his hand on the hilt of his katana - he'll waste no more. Draven hasn't found anyone to fight besides himself, and allies don't have much merit here.

"You know, now that I feel, a drink may finally do something for me."

It's not a nudge, or even an attempt at conversation, really - he's more amused at the notion than anything. When they first started walking, Draven swayed back towards the wall, because it's cool, a filling cool, but...well, walking has a rhythm of its own, no matter how much it takes. They've almost reached the street.