The rough jostle with the forced appology is received by a tip of the hat and a neutral expression as his coconut oil sunblock is insulted, not so much his pride, not a care. D'arthur regards the man and his attitude, then laughs aloud.
Agreed my man, terrible smell, but better than some bullshit designer scent distributed under the name of some two-bit hollywood asshole. I'd venture to say maybe we could get some mahi-mahi or squid worth a damn in this market.
D'arthur takes note of the man as he responds, paying attention to any specific details or nuances that stand out, beside the assholish attitude, but everyone's entitled to that. He takes a chance, has something to ask this man.
Hey bub, You know a place called Mc'Kaskills Pub, somewhere up midtown?