[i]Donny entered the tavern just in time to see the Panda's outburst. Though startled, he wasn't caught off guard. He had seen some crazy shit this past year. Kung Fu wizards, secret agent aliens, even Batman. Batman, for fuck's sake, from those dumb comics. Now he had gone and gotten himself pulled into some sort of cosmic intersection for the deadliest entities in existence.

Oh well, [i]Geronimo[/i].

Donny slipped both hands into the deep pockets of his overcoat. His fighting stance. No, scratch that. As a rule of thumb, he avoided fighting. It was his killing stance. The right hand stayed put. The left withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He flicked one out and took it between his lips, and then lefty went back into hiding. He wasn't ready to light up yet. In situations like this, preparation and knowledge came first. Also, some fucking coffee.

Donny stalked silently up to the bar, all noir and shit with the brim of his fedora tilted over his eyes. He stopped at the counter and took his hat off, setting it on a stool to his left. Orange hair, sprayed back, resembled licks of subdued fire impressed down his scalp. He shrugged off the large duffel bag slung over his back, allowing it to hit the floor with a resounding thump.[/i]

[color=f26522]"Ayuh, mightah gentleman be correct in assumin' he can get a cuppah coffah hee-yaw?"[/color]