[i]"I haven't heard of them either."[/i] To which provoked a series of short nods from Mercer, broken only by the fact that he choose to turn about on the stool; hand grasping the bottle before facing the band once more. [i]“I kinda doubt they’re locals, unless it’s a brand new group. I’m just as curious to figure out what this is gonna be as you are. It looks like they’re starting the sound check now.”[/i]

Drawing the bottle to his lips, his mind wandered for the moment between conversation; why did tonight already feel like a strange, strange night? It didn't bode well, given that he had to at some point let the cat out for a walk about the areas surrounding his workplace. It was just that inkling, unusual feeling. Mercer first chalked it up to the company he was keeping at the bar... which inadvertently convinced him that it was, beyond a doubt the strange feeling. Having just taking the first down of the beer since he picked it back up, the man beside the first - the one with the red and blue check shirt and dangling aviators - proved to lean about and stare at him as he drank.

There existed this awkward, sort of slowing to his drinking welling within him as Mercer's attention shifted in Henry's direction. By the time he had paused, taking the bottle and setting it down, the silent man had drifted behind the other again - breaking his line of sight. Mercer, by all rights, proved a bit bewildered.

[i]What? What in the fuck was that about?[/i] His thoughts drifted, attributing the strangeness to the bar's more unusual patrons as a whole. [i]What the hell is going on here tonight? Did I miss some sort of convention? Who are these people?[/i]

Marginally threatened but more deterred by the sheer oddity of that event, Mercer took up the beer again, downing what little the bottle had left; what he [i]would[/i] have finished originally. The beverage, as initially intended, had the desired effect of proving distracting, as little by little Mercer's psyche had drifted toward the more hostile - he didn't like being watched, for many reasons, a certain giant feline being the most obvious. But there was a method to his madness; why he worked at night, oft wore sunglasses and stuck only to places he felt most comfortable - safe - in.

Except tonight didn't seem to be one of those, as the bars' usual uneventful and more... normal? No, that wasn't right. More... standardized patrons weren't the only "company" here.

Setting he emptied bottle down, Mercer's attention turned to, surprisingly, the lean smoking man from earlier who was just as wrapped in the white uniform as he was the last time he'd been seen. Jarring, certainly but at least this guy had an actual reason to be here - he worked down the street and went on a break. Aviators and Mrs. Anti-Social here? Let alone anyone called "Amish Tech Support?" Not so much. Shrugging lightly, accepting the man as he sat at an angle across the bar, Mercer prepared to order another beverage to "enjoy".

It wasn't the vibrant green color of the drink that the waitress had proved to just delivered that caught his attention as he awaited her return - it was who it was for. Honestly, Mercer didn't exactly know what to expect from the black clad chick - the two cowboys, sure, the smoker, alright, but it amused him that she had made such a hard cut from barely alcohol to the sort of exotic drinks ornamented with an umbrella. It still didn't settle the fact she had, by and large, taken his place... which to this moment didn't sit right with him.

Receiving another drink, having already paid for it with the initial cash from earlier, Mercer could only sit back and watch the show.

Or so he had hoped.

By the time he was about to set the second Coors down, his phone rang with a received message. How he overheard it as the theremin got more out of control - as if that statement had ever crossed anyone's mind before was questionable - was beyond him; not really, he knew this particular tone more so than he should. It wasn't [i]entirely[/i] a bad thing to have happen, but it meant he'd have more company... and that the caller was perfectly aware of where he was at this moment. That last part was the bad news that need emphasis, as this wasn't the first time he was met here unannounced.

Fishing around his pocket, he produced the device and scanned the message.

[i]Need more than last. Weren't happy with copy.[/i]

It was one thing to have dabbled in transporting illicit goods in the past, well now and then to this day too, but it was another to be accepting of and engaging in information gathering for a competing organization. It wasn't hard at all to actually acquire the material, it just took some minor finagling to get right. The easiest was just to stop any one of the vehicles he knew would be transporting secured goods prior to allowing them to leave Harper and Leo's research site; they could protest "random" inspections, but the templated ones? The ones he wrote? Those were valid provided they just so happened to align with a truck's departure.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Mercer downed the beer in a hurry - not that it would help his irritation.

[i]Really? Because it was a copy? Everything we use is a god damned copy of a copy![/i] His mind recoiled at the thought of essentially being subtly berated by a contact, face visibly contorted in a disgruntled manner. All of this for not getting the near impossible to acquire evidence that Harper and Leo were actively duplicating NorGen's synthetic medication. The fact he had any proof at all, that NorGen was right about some of these shipments and the research facility, should've been more than enough - in fact they owed him or as far as Mercer was concerned.

He had to keep calm, just put up with NorGen's agent for a few minutes, then go back to drinking. 

Oh, right... and then take the cat out.