Malcer makes a vague noise of agreement as he sips his tea-- sweet, blessed, wonderful leaf water-- and goes back to his partly thawed pint of ice cream. It's much easier now to pry some of it out, and Malcer is exactly the kind of terrible person who digs out all the chunks of cookie dough first.

The prospect of running out of tea or coffee while out in the fuckoff wilderness is a horrifying one. They'll definitely have to stop before they go out, no one wants to see what Malcer's like when he doesn't have tea.

"How much do you want to bet that we'll find something horrible in that mine?"