The data pad beeps and fades to black as the brute turns it off and slides it into his pocket. He shifted on his stool, one elbow on the bar, and surveyed the interior again with keen interest. A wolf among dogs, the large man seemed.
A side glance fixed the barkeep, busy polishing vessels, "Where oh where are the giants of Jotunheim?" he grumbled through a scar lipped smirk, "Has this well of knowledge run dry?"
John lift his glass of water to gulp from, large pinky extended, and set it down empty with a satisfied sigh. Attention strays to the dartboard and he rises, swaggering toward it like a cowboy too long in the saddle. The visitor takes the missiles in hand, lazily lobbing them at the board with increasing force and amateurish results, entertaining himself.
