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locke cole (lockecole) wrote in silverage,

Locke always thought that the best place to get acquainted with the town, city, village, whatever was the pub. In a pub, there were always people, women, drinks and a general atmosphere of being more relaxed and more talkative. "Where's there's ale, there's a tale," was what he often said.

And where there's a tale, there's information.

So he placed himself in one of the more comfortable spots of the bar of some posh place and snapped his fingers at the server behind the counter. "Some ale here," he almost yelled if it wasn't...just...quiet.

But then he'd said, "We don't have ale."

"What?" Locke asked with a right cheek raised. Really now, no ale? What kind of a place is this? "W, well uhh..." he looked around, turned to the man a seat away from him, then gestured to him with a thumb. "I'll have what he's having."

The bartender nodded and walked away.

Locke was tempted to whistle and drum his fingers on the wood but he had a feeling no one would appreciate that. So instead, he slipped out a sleek leather wallet from his pocket, counted his notes, then slid it back to his vest. Two quiet seconds later, he turned to the brunet and asked, "Actually, what are you drinking?"