Mal didn't like to share. He liked to share even less when it came to his money. There were golden rules that one was supposed to follow when it came to thievery and the man who'd stolen from him had broken every one as far as his standards went. Sure he hadn't exactly gotten his money by the most honorable terms, but Mal was the kind of guy who didn't like to accept help. He liked to make his own way in life, by his own means, and on his own terms. Being pick pocketed wasn't on his terms.
When a second voice came at him from the left, he raised an eye brow and pulled his hands back away from Connor's pool friend. "That all depends if sticky here decides to do the right thing and return what's rightfully mine. " Mal had an accent, but it wasn't from anywhere familiar or likely near by. It almost had a hint of Chinese to it, but only if one really knew the language barrier would they pick up on it.
"Don't want trouble, just want my gorram wallet. " He stated blandly and looked up at Connor. His friend looked insulted by the insinuation that he had been outted as a thief but Mal wasn't so worried. He'd been in plenty of bar fights before. He was ready for another one at any time. Mal carried several fire arms, a couple were at his waist and visible from behind his brown trench coat.