Andrew trembled as he made his way into the [i]biergarten[/i]. The pale man stumbled through the door and found the first empty chair he could find. He hadn't even bothered to shut the door. If the door had a bell that let the room know someone had entered, Andrew hadn't heard it. He was cold, tired, and scared. For the first minute or two, he didn't say a word to anyone. He didn't look at anything. He'd sat at a table with his head hung low. Another patron took this as a cue to leave.
"Sit up straight you baboon, you'll never catch your breath hunched over like that!"
Before Andrew could say anything back to retort, the man had gone. After a few minutes had passed he regained his composure and made his way for the bar. Some food and water would ease his mind, he thought. As he approached the bar he took a look around to gather his surroundings. The room was dimly lit and filled with conversation. Then there were those drinking to their heart's content. At first glance, this seemed like your average tavern. And then Andrew saw them. Guns everywhere. Everyone in this room had some kind of weapon on them, and he felt like he was the weakling in the saloon in one of those western American films. He put a hand on his hip. Although he wouldn't have been able to draw even if someone HAD confronted him, he wanted to make sure he at least HAD it on him still. He shrunk a bit as he walked, hoping not to draw the gun-toting partrons' attention. He chose a seat at the end of the bar where he could turn his back to the wall. He waved a bartender over, and asked if there was someone named Max.
"He's over at that table there." The bartender pointed at a table, a short distance away. "Can I get you anything to drink? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm good for now. Got anything to eat?"