The fact that he had never actually seen a dragon seemed to be lost on people. Hell, he had never seen anything like most of the people in Summerview. But as for sheriff? Well, it took a bit more than that to make the guy quake in his converse. He'd been hanging out with people across ranks since he was 18 and in training. Now, he just liked someone who gave as few fucks as he did without having that whole doom and gloom emo thing he totally was not into at all in high school. His eyeliner skills were far better than that, after all. That and Jay was just cool. It was weird to call someone who was older than most standing structures in the United States "cool," but there it was.
When she told Ralph he was falling the old man pretty, Nuno balked with his lips pursed. He shook his head, tipped his glass to her, tapped the bar, and shot back his rum. He exhaled and slid the glass down the bar top slightly and eyed his companion with disappointment.
"I'll have you know I gave up a night bundled in blankets watching Netflix to freeze my dick off on the way to hang out with you. A little bit of love and appreciation would be greatly appreciated." He rolled his eyes heavily as he pushed away from the bar and started strolling toward the pool tables. "Ralph, keep my tab ope, yeah boy?" His mind then went to the pool sticks available, though his eyes kept skating over the other people in the venue as he moved. His head twitched in the direction of movement as people shifted.
"Another thing," He declared once he picked his cue of choice. Not that it mattered. "You should be buying me the drinks with the way I am about to get exhibition-style fucked over the pool table for the next few hours." He pointed the cue at Jay as he crossed on the other side of the table from her and took a pull from his beer bottle. "You never even call me in the morning after, either."
Nuno hopped onto the stool and tucked his toes behind the crossbar of his seat. He was not sure if she was actually in the mood to start playing right away or not. Either way, he learned he did not know how to rack balls a long time ago. He left that to the experts and people who had a strange obsession with following pointless rules in a dingy bar that smelled of mold and the crushed, drowned dreams of the city's inhabitants. He did, however, shed his leather jacket.