He's sliding onto a seat and picking up a fork as she answers the question, but what she says makes him forget pancakes, syrup, and fork all at the same time, leaving the tines hanging over the surface of the stack as he looks back at her, a faint frown narrowing a line between his eyebrows.

"Stables?"

In a bar?

The rest is just as strange, and he looks around, wondering whether or not any of the people she just mentioned are currently around. "These people -- the ones who help out. They live here? In the bar?"