The general murmur had Goodnight getting ready. The mingling patrons were too tense, the bartender too openly disapproving, and the Oriental not acquiescent enough for anything good to happen. He adjusted himself in his seat as subtly as he could, taking in the rest of the room - targets, possibly - to make a quick plan.

But his curiosity was getting the better of him. He'd seen Sam navigate situations like this, all quick and smooth talk and unshakable confidence (though Goodnight knew now the toll it took on him to keep that up). How would this Bokyung handle things? What kind of man was he? All Goodnight knew was on the warrant.