
Ulrich didn't mind a nip or two of alcohol himself. In fact, his home on land came already stocked with a cabinet of fine liquors and wines that his servants knew he'd possibly like. He hadn't asked for it, but it was a fine treat to come home to, anyways. Rarely did he drink to the point of drunkness, and that was usually only around humans at their parties.
"I doubt they'd retain much of their ability to survive, in that case." What if everything went to shit the next day? Would half the population even know what to do with themselves? Of course, that was talking in hypotheticals. Not every species went on the same principle of fighting to survive as the Panthalassians did.
Ulrich finished off his plate as they walked, tossing it in a garbage can because at least he knew that much. Not too many people were giving them glances, but on an island with oddities like Manta Carlos, it was to be expected.
As for the clothes, he squinted at the articles in the window. They certainly looked pretty, but were impractical in his eyes. "Clothes is still something I must adjust to. My people have little to no need for it." Especially the ones who couldn't transform, or the ones who weren't adapted to frequenting the land.
He himself came out of the ocean completely naked and if he had his way, it'd stay like that. But despite the openness of the island, even things that resembled humans were expected to wear clothes.
"Why is it that humans find clothing so important, anyways?"