Montana's eyebrows lifted sightly as he watched the younger man across from him inhale his drink. He didn't seem off put by his actions, rather, a glimmer of humor seemed to dance on his face for a few moments. In contrast to Jeffery's first gulp, Montana raised the glass to his lips, and took a slower, smaller drink from his own. His story painted a firmer picture of his past. Generational sword meant fighting at the very least was in his family, with an heirloom that likely predated the use of modern firearms. 

[b]"They abased themselves the moment they drew steel against a more hardened weapon. I've found that the inexperienced noble often conflates expensive with practical."[/b] 

His eyes moved back toward the woman in crimson, her companion had left her seat, and was moving to intercept the pickpocket. She was a perceptive one. Perhaps she'd be able to spare the urchin an unpleasant possible fate. 

[b]"I go by Enoch currently. I'm a courier, so switching names every so often comes with the business. Better I reach out to a client if I need work, than for clients to pursue me so easily."[/b]

[b]"The regulars are as you say, fine, but I imagine you've encountered unsavoury characters that, working for once is an experience best not replicated."[/b]

Montana raised his hand, and ordered two more drinks. [b]"Are you hungry Jeffery? I'm more fond of my own cooking, but the mushrooms prepared here aren't terrible."[/b] A second motion indicated some food for the table. A small helping between them.