One of the bats flies towards the door (well, in a lot of directions but averaging towards the door), coughing, and squeaking (or trying to) It's the dust! Not the virus!

But it's cold outside. Getting the coughing under control, the bat stops blowing backwards when trying to fly forwards, which bodes well for later carousing... And heads back into the Tavern, where most motes are moot, having wafted floorward, shelfward, barward and otherwards. Someone is opening windows and checking the outlets for mice...