You open the door to the pub and ask the bartender for a local stout, as you're used to doing. You pick up your mug, rubbing your sore neck as you look for a quiet spot to sit down. After making your rounds, you suddenly spot the tall figure hidden in the shadows of the corner. You raise an eyebrow and secretly spit at him for wearing that damn skull mask all through the bar. You wonder how he's managing to drink there and how the bartender hasn't kicked him out. You just walk over to the empty seat next to him and sit down. ‘Aye, Lt.’ The masked man looks up, glares at you for a moment with his dead fish eyes under his mask, and slowly says, 'F*CK HELL, Bird.'