Guy hooks the heel of his boot on his chair rung, returning to minding his own business once that brief exchange is over. Mutual recognition, maybe, and it doesn't bother him in the least...just something to be aware of, and he settles back into his relaxed, quietly watchful demeanor.

The Gaelic means nothing to him, not being one of the handful of languages he speaks, but the tone gets a sideways look. Bars are bars no matter where you go, and it never fails that someone eventually gets rowdy about something. Just a signal to keep his drink close, though, because Guy avoids scrapes when he can. Too much attention is better avoided, and he prefers to avoid messes anyway, even small ones.

Guy is a dangerous man, and it's in the rules that you don't start swinging unless you mean it.