The Scarecrow accepted his drink from the waitress, giving her a quick thanks as she walked away. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea, either," he said with a nod, pulling his mug toward him as he filed away the notion that a drink would help matters when it came to initiating conversation. While there were others of flesh-and-blood in Oz, they weren't exactly the same as the people with whom he and Depth Charge were trying to blend: they didn't expect talking scarecrows or good witches or even a pair of shoes with the magic to grant one's heart's desire. Dorothy herself had said that much, and until his arrival at Landel's, she was the only person he'd met who was like that.

He looked into his mug. Unless Depth Charge had had more exposure to them, it was going to take all they'd learned of humans thus far to make their plan go off without a hitch. "One of us is going to have to talk to her eventually if we're to get the information we need. Even with a different name, I don't know how well of a human I make, to be honest- though I don't expect either of us has that much experience with it."

Bringing the mug to his lips, the Scarecrow took a sip from it idly- his face scrunched instantly as he recognized the drink from his meeting with Javert, putting the mug back on the table. Oh, that did bring back awful memories.