Clif continued his trip to the bar and nodded to both Margaret and David, hoping that they'd understand that it might just hit the fan tonight. Just maybe. The bartender handed him his drink and he turned to survey the scene with increasingly bleary eyes.
That one in black looked dangerous, was he the killer? Or maybe this... wait a minute. "That's Roger Claymore!" Clif said aloud. He promptly forgot about the furry thing and the vagrant and even the black clad man for a moment and walked towards Claymore. He recognized him from the file that Sylpheed kept on the man. Sylpheed had a file on everyone, it seemed.
"Wha's happenin' man? Donno if ya 'member or know me, but I'm Cliffor- Clif!" He corrected himself for the second time that night. "Wern' me that granted that Barghest of yers, but I passed it along ta the bossman. The request, I mean. What brings you up this way?"
