Sofi, for panahedan; Sparrow assumed this was short for Sofia. He didn't like Sofi on its own. It was too short. Not right. But as a nickname, yes, he could tolerate that. And the other--Archie. Walking Shadow. Really. Sparrow gave him a critical once over from the top of the bar. Crossbow. Nice.
Sparrow hopped down off the counter of the bar, landing in a crouch on his toes. He came up as the door opened again. North. Relatively on time.
"Sparrow," he said. "Sparrow Peterson." He gave a little bow in the direction of the teenagers. "The coat is an excellent precaution against penetrative bites, although not as nice as kevlar or nomex." He turned his head toward North and nodded. "North, nice to see you in one piece. Before you leave, I want to talk to you about something."
Namely, the serial killer. But that was for a later point.
"Archie. How good of a shot are you with that crossbow?" Sparrow asked. He reached onto his belt, unclipping his own bow and pressing the release bar. The limbs snapped into place, shaking out into a full-sized recurve in less than a second. "Because if you're not, we'll fix that, too."
So far, it was shaping up to be: general self defence, talk to North about using her as bait, choking the junkie (which sounded suspiciously like a masturbatory euphemism now that he thought about it), and crossbow tips. Not a bad way to spend a day with a bunch of kids.