Gideon nodded at Max, taking up his pint and said:

"Aye, Max. No need to waste shells or bullets, or the money on them, if I don't need to."

He took a drink from the glass of cold beer, and turned on his stool to glance around at the confused newcomer asking for Max, and some of the other patrons also making themselves busy, himself looking around absently. 

He thought about where he'd go tonight, there were several interesting prospects he'd heard about or seen during his nightly forays. They could be busts or booms, but he wouldn't know until he got there and started picking through. If Max were after something in particular, that'd give him a goal and some direction, but he just wanted general stuff, then it wouldn't really matter where he went.

The talk of his "major" job was intriguing to think about, but not interesting to Gideon. If he wanted to be a Gat-man for hire, he'd have taken a more war-like nickname like "Hawk" or "Eagle", not Owl. All the same, he wondered what bloody business his boys would be up to, killing bandits? Competitors? Stalkers that owed him money? No idea.

All the same, Gideon enjoyed his drink on the barstool and waited while the sweet smells of cooking wafted out periodically from the kitchens.