The first one seemed to be a Zoner man in his early-20's, who had dark copper-red hair, green eyes, a light-tanned skin, and with a finely-toned physique stood at 164-centimeters; he wore this thick, brown, unbuttoned trench-coat which hung more like a cape, lined with a lot of pockets and zippers that held many tools and objects, making it somewhat bulky; he also wore a plain-black shirt, dark-brown cargo-pants with just as many pockets and zippers as the trench-coat, and plain-black boots.
The second was a Corsair woman who was somewhere reaching her mid-20's, with jet-black hair, green eyes, pinkish-white skin, and with a more-pronounced build than even the Zoner's she stood taller than him, with a height of 175-centimeters; her simple-black flight suit clung to her body, yet she didn't at all looked restricted by it.
... Both seemed to be on-the-edge, their faces very cool, almost professional-like, their eyes gazing very suspiciously around the place as they stepped in, looking as if they expected a gunfight to go off at any minute.
"I've never trusted Junker bars... Usually ends badly, as far as I've seen, compadre." The woman remarks quietly to her companion.
He only turns his eyes at her and responds monotonously, "Let's just hope you'll be proven wrong this time. Plus, there's at least some decent security around here." He then turns his narrow gaze at Dekker, who's piercing stare was already busy deeply-analyzing the motives of the pair.
As the two continue walking, they pass by the table where Doc Holliday, John and Pip were just starting a new game. The man's glance quickly points on Doc Holliday, and he raises an eyebrow for a moment before breaking his stare and shaking his head, "... Nah... It couldn't be him..." He whispers to himself.
Eventually, they approach the front and take their seats. The Corsair places both elbows on the long tabletop, her hands clasping together, "I hope Mr. Stone's info isn't outdated... or rigged..."
"Well, we're already here, so why not at least give it a try?" He places his hands on the table and puts them together, waiting patiently for a bartender to go ask for their orders.