"No lines, no obnoxious drunk people, save for us. And if things do get nasty somehow, I'll protect you."
If Conrad had any idea that he was speaking with a well-trained assassin, that joke might have been a little funnier. Because as far as skillsets were concerned, Wesley certainly outranked him. But as it stood, Conrad was joking. He didn't believe for a second that things would take a dangerous turn. The lack of humans was bizarre, but maybe, that's all it really was and there was nothing to freak out over.
A majority of people might have thought older bars to be unfavorable, but Conrad found this one to be charming. It clearly had a sense of history and community to it. It had been there a while and had housed many patrons. There were old black and white photographs on the wall, commemorating residents who once lived in the area long ago. And by long ago, Conrad realized the dates at the bottom of the pictures were very close to his own point in time.
When Wesley offered the bottle to him, Conrad leaned against the counter, collecting it from him and taking a swallow of his own. The Brit happened to love licorice, so he'd sneak in another sip before handing it back.
"Hey," Conrad reached out, swatting at Wesley's arm, "I'm not that old." He was old, though. Technically. Conrad just enjoyed giving Wesley shit for teasing him about it. "Just because something has collected a little dust doesn't mean it's busted. C'mon, let's take a look."
The jukebox did still work, miraculously, though Conrad didn't recognize everything that was on it. Some of the music was from the late seventies and the eighties, and Conrad was marginally curious to know what music from the future was like. "Mm, how about you choose first? I've never heard of.. Madonna. Or Queen."