You don't go to a pub for a glass of water. Not a normal one at least, this one was a more special case. Eighty was seated, passing a glance at the woman who'd asked for her glass of [i]rain[/i], only to get denied. After her turn was up, the bartender approached him next.

"You." The bartender commented, "What do you want now?"

"My usual." Eighty replied, "I'll be out of your hair after one or two, mate. Ease up."

The bartender, looking all sorts of displeased, turned and grabbed a glass, and held it under a lager dispenser. He handed over the drink, and Eighty handed over the payment. They continued to eye each other for a moment as the exchange was made.

"You ever gonna tell me your name?" The bartender asked.

"No." Eighty replied.

The bartender looked well and done with the conversation, so he turned to serve his other patrons. Eighty began taking sips of his lager, pulling out his phone and flipping through messages and random websites. And, passing quick glances around the room, mainly for signs of trouble.