"Aye, dinnae worry, you get used tae it after a while." A thick Scottish brogue echoed up the staircase, and it was followed by a lanky, dark-haired, scot. He looked around at the assembled people, those who must've received messages similar to his own. He'd known that Sandra would be there, and he had to admit that it was nice to see a familiar face. She wasn't the only one of those, though. He knew Felix. He and the detective had something of an understanding. Felix would buy drinks and leave nice tips, and Tavish would keep an ear out and violate that oh-so-sacred bartender-patron-confidentiality by telling Felix anything he might find interesting. He smirked teasingly at Sandra. "Or desensitized, anyway." 

He looked at the only one of the three he didn't recognize, and he wondered briefly if it might've been smart to bring his revolver. He'd have liked the added insurance, but he didn't have a holster. He could've tucked it into the waistband of his pants, but that seemed like a good way to sit down weird and accidentally fire it off and the last think he needed was a .38 bullet to the groin.