Banger raised an eyebrow to himself when Mr. Swires kicked everyone out like he owned the place. He let it slide though without a second thought. Tonight was his party on his dime, after all...and besides, if not for him, this place would still be closed up, not doing anyone any good in any way.
He felt kind of dubious about going off for a blind meet-n-greet up in the hanger with some dude he just met, but he did say to Mr. Swires that he owed him one, so, depending on how things turn out, this could conceivably be the one, and allow him to consider his word honored.
"Alright, Mr. Mikey Swires," he said with a cheery tone and kalisti smile. "Let's go then...What could possibly go wrong?"
Before exiting the bar, Matthew motions Mr. Swires to sidestep with him towards a staff closet. There, Banger throws on his duster and takes a 50 year old, yet very clean slugthrower off the shelf and slaps a clip of hollow points into the hilt before nesting it into his belt at the small of his back.
He then pulls out the serrated blade he put to Mikey's throat earlier from the right side of his belt, holds it up, and looks at him with an exaggerated look of comic distaste while silently shaking his head back & forth, mouthing the word: 'nooooooooooo.'
He places it up on the shelf, and pulls a mean-looking, 'f**k-off' Gaian hatchet from a hook on the closet wall, and slides his thumb down the blade. Matt then flashes Mr. Swires an exaggerated look of approval and childish glee while giving a thumbs up, slowly nodding his head up and down while silently mouthing the word 'yeeeeesssss.' as blood drips down his thumb, off his wrist, and down to the floor.
After he nestles the hatchet to the left side of his belt, He and Mr. Swires begin to make their way to mooring bay 17.