Stopovers (for whiskywolf)

[mrkillershades]

Guy had been intending to go back to London, or Berlin, or maybe, hell, even Lisbon if he had to on this little European vacation, but things just hadn't worked out that way. His previous employers were still keeping much too tight a watch on his old connections and, having been warned away from his old haunts, that left only his smaller stashes to hit. Which was the reason why he was in a little pub in a small town in Scotland rather than a plush city hotel room right now.

Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em sideways. He fully intended to get old enough to retire, no matter how many assassins they sent after him, but it was getting just a little on the tedious side dodging deathtraps and double-crosses. His next trip overseas was definitely going to be a real vacation involving sun, beach, booze, and preferably no awkward customs questions or inconvenient body disposal.

Though okay, at least the whiskey was decent, even if the atmosphere was a little lacking. And it was mostly quiet enough that he could just keep his head down, have his drink, and kill a little time before he moved on. Guy might stand out a bit, the laconic American with the scar-nicked face, spiky blond hair, and the expensive aviator shades tucked neatly in the pocket of his dress shirt, but he kept to himself and tipped well, and in all his travels, he found that was the key to people leaving you the hell alone in the politest possible way.

Comments

[whiskywolf]

Luckily, Leon speaks the language of his country fluently. It helps in these towns, remote, traditional. He listens in before sighing as it sounds like they're coming to blows.

He pushes himself slowly up from his stool and walks over lazily, interrupting their conversation with his own Gaelic.

[mrkillershades]

Oh, hey. A little bit of local theater. Guy watches, picking up the tone of the conversation if not the actual content. Bar-room arguments are the same no matter where you go- a few beers and a few hot tempers, and things spill over, no matter what the topic might be. It just takes one thrown punch to get it started, then you're hauling your buddy off before the cops show up and you're all in on disciplinary actions the next morning.

Except, well, the cops are already here. Though they might be dumb enough/drunk enough to get something started anyway. He leans back in amusement, waiting to see if someone actually does start swinging, and just how the cop carries himself if he needs to start busting heads to get the rowdies to settle down...maybe places a few mental bets as he sits forward just enough to keep a good eye on things.