Sort of felt like Clint Eastwood in a bad western when I pushed the door open to the Roadhouse and everyone stopped talking. Shit, didn't think I was so obvious. After a few seconds and more stares then I could count they went back to normal since I hadn't come in yelling with a gun and a warrant.
Made my way around to the bar, looking Jo over more then once. "That obvious?" Pulled out a stool and sat down, almost wondering if they had food here.
"Actually you dropped this." Slid a pocket knife across the bar to her as she stared, one hand feeling for it in a pocket. "Now why would I need to come here for info? I'm the FBI, usually people come to me for info."
Waited a second for her to deck me again but she was more interested in checking her knife. "Look I didn't use it. But if you'd rather have a rematch."