Karram took hold of the flask and took two deliberate sips of the bitter liquid. His face twinged a little before turning normal once more. He handed the flask back, wiping his mouth as he did. He stretched his arms out wide and let out a half-yawn before Flint muttered a breathy "Fuck". 

Karram instantly reached for his blade's hilt again and peered out the window of the vehicle. Parry was on the move and was soon talking to the bouncer... about what Karram could only guess. And none of his guesses led to a happy ending. 

“You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go’s down. I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want.” Flint was eyeing Karram's sword. This sword had seen many years of use, and yet it never dulled. Eromyr had given it to him as a gift in celebration of his passing the council's judgement in Ireland. Oakbane, a fearsome blade that allowed Karram to harness natural energy and wield it as his own. Its abilities were powerful, but relatively unknown even to other magical beings. Karram was good at keeping secrets after all. He clutched the hilt tighter and looked back up.

"Oakbane is suited for any style of combat, so I think I'll manage. Thank you though, Flint. It 'shit go's down', as I presume it will, I've got your back." He nodded to emphasize his point and slid into the front seat with ease so he could get a better view of the club's entrance.