The axolotl stares, bobbing a little to the song over the speakers.
He reaches for the spray bottle again to hydrate himself with another humid, gag-inducing mist of disgusting, room temperature water. He drips, positively drips, soaking and sweating in that saturated t-shirt as every pull of the nozzle causes his nasty little fingers to squelch audibly.
Needless to say, you don't stick around much longer. Frankly, if you wanted to eat at some point, you don't now, and probably ever again.