Dr. Quackshot uttered a nervous chuckle. He didn't want the opportunity to come knocking while he was around. He was not a fight; he never [i]had[/i] been. Fighting was the exact opposite of what he did for a living. 

"Right," he took another long drag from his straw. "Let's hope that that opportunity knocks in a beneficial way for you." He lowered his voice again. "Please don't speak too ill of Mr. Pinky and his gang right now. We don't know when or if those Bubblers will return and I'd rather not have them open fire because they heard us talking like that." 

He shook his head again, tossing more thoughts away. After years to collecting rumors and gossip as forms of payment, Quackshot knew too much and could possibly barter for his life should he need to. He hoped he would never have to, but he decided not to worry about that now. There was no reason to worry about having extra chickens before he ever had the eggs that would hatch into said chickens. He shook his head, again, but this time it was to refocus his thoughts. 

"Never mind," he whispered, cocking his head to look quickly around the establishment. He wanted to take one of his honey lozenges, but he couldn't without removing his mask. He drank again from his stein. Nothing he thought was making any sense to him. It was jumbling up.

A glint of light caught on another patron's glass and attracted Quackshot's attention. He stared off into space, slowly sipping from his straw.