It took the words of a new patron to bring Preston out of his thoughts. He was so concerned with seeing the fight through and getting out of the bar that he forgot that there were other people in the bar with him. He could smell the drink of the man next to him. Cheap. Preston only let himself have two. He couldn't be flying around drunk, if the ring even let him do that. The Guardians told him that the ring would last exactly one day on whatever planet he was currently on. In the case of deep space, it would last twenty four hours relative to Preston. 

"Marvin Hayes is getting his tail handed to him." Preston groaned. "I got money on this, and I just want this fight to end already." Once again, Preston's hands were in his pockets, slipping off his ring to keep people from seeing the vibrant piece of jewelery.

He looked over to the man in full. He looked to be a few years older than Preston himself, but had that classic dead inside look that so many people had nowadays. His hand moved out of his pocket in an attempt to shake the gentleman's hand. "Preston," He introduced himself. "Who are you rooting for?" Maybe this guy was a casual bar sitter, maybe he wasn't here for the fight. There was no better way to get to know people than to outright ask them. 

Something about the man reminded Preston how it was only lunch, and he had already downed two beers. He wasn't a drinker, he swears, but it was just the environment and the people around him that got him to drink after a stressful three weeks on Oa.