The bar was loud, though not chaotic, as the clanks of drinks and others conversing filled the night inside. Hyperlaser quaffed his alcoholic beverage, his railgun safely near him, as he pushed the cup aside afterwards, on the bartender’s counter, sighing heavily underneath his helmet.

The mercenary took half a second to zone out for a good moment, briskly taking notice of you taking a seat next to his. Either way, his stern demeanor held on, though faint curiosity was present. “Greetings.”