@ everyone here basically
The Musavian walked over to the counter and acquired the little box with the remains of his meal into his relatively small clawed hands, of which they grasped onto it firmly. Firm-ness that would almost fade out as the distraction of another debate between the group's homemade big-heads took place, and it was starting to develop once again, as the discussion now carried over to effectiveness of group picnics. Isn't it quite Ironic? They argue what's most effective, yet arguing is the least effective thing they are doing right now.
Then, after yawning, he gave a little nod to the Lionoid, stretched his right arm, then the left arm to not raise suspecions. He found it rather annoying that there was no place to put the box with the leftovers, as he was armed with a double-barreled shotung, but no backpack, an item that he'd trade the cumbersome hyperatomic equipment for right now, if he didn't believe that said equipment would be of importance in his life, somehow.
So he went to the door that was pointed to leave to the outside and stood in front of it for a few moments, he tapped a bit on the glass that seemed to be the same that refused to yield to his elbow while trying to see something through the smoky glass, as he put his hand on the lever that operates the locking mechanism, pulled it down to drive out the locking lug from its holding point etched in the frame at the other side, and oppened the door, but not looking inside. Instead, he went around half-circle together with the door, and put his left hand to the right, as if it were presenting the door to the others.
