Lucius is actually quite impressed with the chem-user's knowledge of things beyond his ken. Knowledge of the Adeptus Astartes in the ranks of the common folk is rare even on an advanced world such as this, but he supposes it was probably likely that one associated with Chaos might be aware of the existence of Chaos Space Marines, and thus their loyalist counterparts. The Fallen Angel considers responding to the addict in a way that praises him for his astuteness, and so begin the process of endearing him to the Marine for future use, but it is at this moment that the same ratty little hunchback from before approaches them both, asking that they follow him to see his master. Lucius turns to face the man, judging him for his mere presence, and more subtly the distance between them both to see if his prior suggestion has been violated. He's decided that he dislikes Raoul - for his appearance, for his generally snivelling manner, and- he glances over at Atella, to see her conversing with a small horde of deformed roughly-humanoids, apparently unaware of Raoul's presence here- for apparently serving more than one master at a time. Even if he is as far unaligned from Nurgle as possible, Lucius has come to the conclusion that Raoul is a man with a toxic presence, even without the influence of the Four on his mind. More importantly, with regards to his train of logic, he has decided that Raoul would not be missed by anybody in particular, least of all the Dark Gods.

Gradually, Lucius hefts his bulk from the stool he is in. He does this in a manner that ever-so-casually positions himself just under five feet away from Raoul. Then, without warning and fast as lightning, he is stood behind the hunchback, hands clamped on top of his head and around his mouth in a way that exerts a great amount of pressure on his skull. The Angel only says 'I warned you' to the unfortunate man, before violently wrenching his head round and back to shatter most of the vertebrae in his cervical curve, a far more vicious execution than the relatively clean nerve severing he was used to performing, and one designed to draw attention from those in the immediate vicinity. Then, lifting the minion's limp body with the same grip, he turns and hurls the body with a grunt, sending it flying in an arc over to the edge of the crowd surrounding one of the nearby fighting pits; in seconds, they have heaved the man into the pit without actually checking to see that he's still alive, and it is at this point that Lucius loses interest in the pits, returning to his previous stool, and gravely muttering 'Sit back down, chemmie,' to the presumed spy. 'It's rude not to introduce yourself when meeting a new person.'

Turning to face the bar, he taps the surface with two fingers, quite solidly even for his size, a call to the many-limbed bartender which is swiftly answered. 'What'll it be, sir?' the man asks, apparently completely unfazed by or unaware of the brutal murder that took place not ten seconds ago. 'Two drinks,' comes the deadpan response from the Fallen, 'multiple hard liquors, at least 50% alcohol content. And that's [i]ethanol,[/i] if you don't mind. I think my companion's liver would explode if it were something humans couldn't normally process.' A much-overpriced note is pressed into the table, and swiftly taken away and recompensed appropriately by the bartender, who promptly begins his work of mixing many of the more alcoholic beverages he possesses, working like a human spider with far too much hand-eye coordination for the number of eyes he possesses. Content that his order will be processed accordingly, Lucius turns back to the drug addict, says to the man he has drawn into conversation 'Please, addict, your name,' and eyes him in a way that dares him to not do as requested.

[@Lord Coake] [@Jbcool]