[Just as he's mulling over what kind of health benefits an establishment that serves "organic produce" could possibly provide, Qubit gives him something else to worry about. He glances over his shoulder at the two undeads -- their glassy eyes stare blankly ahead, their bodies barely moved by the wind and the sand.]

I suppose I do. [Not that he meant to 'ensnare' them, as he's taken to calling it.] You might wish to work swiftly, in case more notice we're here. What is it, exactly, that we're looking for?