[ No. No, he really can't. Luckily, Keith isn't alone in keeping an eye on the door -- though the other patrons are better about it, all furtive fleeting glowers as Keith's flashes out like a sword. The men at the door, at least, seem quick enough to shrug it off as they shamble in, mumbling and bitching, hands clutching shut the fronts of the heavyworn leather jackets currently in vogue in the cheapest parts of Oldtown. ]
. . . they look pretty calm. Like they're used to the place.
[ At least he remembers to veer back to his sad beer before he mutters. ]
no subject
. . . they look pretty calm. Like they're used to the place.
[ At least he remembers to veer back to his sad beer before he mutters. ]