[color=darkred]"Not a bad choice,"[/color] Pen admitted, before calling, [color=darkred]"Salmon!"[/color] Leaning back, he shrugged, [color=darkred]"You'd think the fish'd be crap too but they seem to know what they're doing with that."[/color]

As the wait for food began, Pen kept his ear out, keeping quiet as the various conversations began to  creepy up again. Leaning closer to his comrade in blue, Pen began, [color=darkred]"The grub's good, but I come here for another reason. Believe it or not, I am a Marine, after all."[/color]

After some minutes passed, a homely serving woman arrived with a bowl of stew and a plate of fish, clattering silverware down without so much as a nod. Letting it slid, Pen grabbed his fork, jabbing it lightly towards a nearby table.

Two men in bandanas, tattoos covered, spoke: "If your big eagle can accept no more than a silver, his worm will be where he left it."

Scooping up a bit of his fish, Pen nodded, mentioning quietly, [color=darkred]"Looks like someone took something of value and is ransoming it back..."[/color]

Glancing over to a table on the other side, he heard, "It's true that the rat and the weasel can defeat the snake, but what of the seagull?"

Pen huffed, [color=darkred]"Psh, a pirate alliance? Won't last long..."[/color]

Another one, at the table just behind Pen, "When the ants reach, the bird's shell shall fall."

Pen froze up a bit, before digging in for another bite of fish, trying to act natural. Swallowing, he whispered, [color=darkred]"H-huh? They're going after a Marine Base...somehow..."[/color] Trying to ignore his slight increase of sweat, he stuffed more food in his mouth, as if ignoring it.