"Ah, I see..." Amelia replied, shifting her weight as she looked over at Andrew who was getting her something to drink as well as some food.

"Should I be careful around him?" she suddenly asked, leaning forward to close some distance between Owl and herself. She had somewhat of a concerned look on her face, but for good reason. Needless to say, she was a little bit suspicious of this Owl guy as well. Maybe Amelia was being overly cautious, but she certainly didn't have anything to lose by asking a couple of questions.

@TemplarKnight07
@Fyre Unholy

Gideon took his eyes off of Andrew and looked back over at Amy, calmly replying.

"Word to the wise from my experience is to fully trust nobody in The Zone. But he seems harmless enough, if a bit jumpy for whatever reason. That's his business, I certainly don't know anything about him."

Absently, he put his glass down besides him and scratched the back of his neck with his right hand, using his left to simply check that the stock of his shotgun was within reach before letting go and returning his hands to the table. It was a nervous reflex, he knew Max didn't tolerate shoot-outs nor did he intend to shoot anyone here, but it was a way of reassuring himself that he stuff was still where he left it and that he could draw something out quickly if need be.

Andrew had ordered himself a bit of Scotch. He was ready for that drink and wanted to save his alcohol for when he was on the go. He would order some food for Amy, but he didn't know what she liked. After placing his order he looked back at the table, seeing Amy leaning in to talk to Gideon and wondered if there was anything there. Was it a coincidence that Amy had dropped her bag on his lap? And that it was some sort of ruse to talk to Max? No, that would be stupid. Andrew was new in town and didn't know anybody. He shook the idea out of his mind and made his way back to the table.

If Amy, Gideon, or Max had watched him they might've noticed that Andrew was regaining some of his own composure, but he still looked a little wobbly. He was still in shock from his experience and was beginning to have second thoughts about being here. He had to keep telling himself that this was to help his business grow. If he were to attract the attention of any celebrities he'd need to do something that everyone else was too afraid to do. Besides, once he got his pictures he could leave. All Andrew needed to do was play tourist and learn the lay of the land.

With a slightly revived confidence, he returned to the table and sat back down. "The bartender told me that our food is almost ready, if you had ordered any."

"Fair enough," Amelia casually replied, leaning to the side to put her bag down on the ground. Just then, she caught a quick glimpse of Owl's shotgun. She eyed the weapon for a brief moment before sitting back up again, displaying one hell of a poker face. Maybe she was getting good at hiding her emotions, or maybe she was so desensitized to guns at this point that the sight of one didn't phase her the least bit. She cast a glance at Andrew who was making his way back to the table.

"Where's my drink?" she joked with him as he sat down, honestly not in the mood for alcohol at the moment. For some reason, she had the feeling that she wasn't wanted at their table, despite the fact that she'd been invited to sit down. Maybe it was Andrew's tense body language that put her off, but if she indeed was in the way of the two men conducting business, then they wouldn't have been so welcoming to begin with.

@TheMadAsshatter

Neasa had to stop and think about what he said. There was some merit to it. Some. "In a trading post, however, there are others there who might notice somebody with malicious intent. There are others who might be able to stop it before it happens. Here? You have no defenses. I could have stabbed you. Do you truly not care if you are killed in your sleep?"

She really had to stop caring; it wasn't her problem. But he was one of the few friendly faces she had met along the way. It was rather nice to just relax and talk to somebody. While she didn't put her gun away, she did let herself lean back against a wall. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get back up if she sat down.

As for her story, she shrugged her shoulders. "Had a dumb brother who decided to come here. Been trying to find him, but he's probably dead. Now I'm just sort of here. Name's Neasa by the way."

Gideon nodded to Andrew.

"Very good."

Looking over at Amy as she posed her question, he reached into his coat and drew out his wallet. He took a 100 Mark note out and slid it over to her.

"Help yourself, on me."

Gideon then left the note in front of her and redirected his attention back at Andrew, his expression still neutral and keeping his body relaxed as he took his pint glass up again.

"So, you were saying?"

"Like I said, I wanna know what you meant when you said you 'specialized in different products'." he tried to act casual, as if he was among his own friends in a bar. He tried to hide his fear, but his voice shook a bit. He really just wanted to pretend that he was back home so that he didn't explode out of fear of being shot. Andrew was still scared that one of these people would get trigger happy and start shooting the place up like in one of those American westerns. "I'm not really looking for anything to buy, if that's what you mean. I'm looking for someone to help me not get shot or killed by one of those....mutants or whatever you call them."

Andrew's eyes began darting around the room in a paranoid frenzy. It was then that he realized almost everyone in the room was looking at them. It was then he realized yet another difference in this bar from others outside of the Zone. People here paid far more attention to body language and little scenes like the one he'd just been in. He'd have to be more careful in the future. He looked around the rest of the room, in the gaps between his conversation. There was a lone guard in the hallway that leads to the back rooms. At first, Andrew thought the guard might be of use if something were to start. Then he realized the guard was so bored that he was watching the TV, paying no attention to the events unfolding in the room. He supposed that the guard might just be there for show, a preventative measure if anything. After all, this guard would be outnumbered 40 to 1 if he were to actually try to stop a gunfight in the room. Andrew shivered at the thought, and pushed them to the back of his mind where he might forget them.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, then," he replied. "Neasa, huh? Interesting name," he added. Did she really come here to try to find her brother? Not that it wasn't a noble cause, but it seemed like an awfully risky thing to do, even considering the circumstances. She must have really cared for him. Scott brought his hand up to his chin and rubbed his stubble. "Are you still looking for him? I may be of some help, if you're alright with that."

Scott gave her prior question some thought. He figured he had already assessed the risks and accepted them when he made his decision to enter the zone, but on the point of taking risks Scott realized something. This woman wasn't wearing a gas mask either, even before she saw him not wearing one. He had an excuse; he knew this house was mostly clear of any ambient contaminants, but how would she have known if she just got here? He cocked an eyebrow. Hypocrite. "Why aren't you wearing a mask? You only just came in here, how would you know it's safe?" he asked, knowingly, rhetorically, and matter-of-factly, flashing a sly smile.

"Oh—wow...thank you," Amelia replied, grabbing the note and quickly deciding that she might as well have a drink. When someone was being that generous, it was best to just take their offer. The young woman then quietly excused herself from the table so that the two men could resume their chat in peace. She took her time walking to the bar, noticing more than a couple of pairs of eyes following her as she made her way across the floor. But Amelia ignored them all, pretending that she was having a hard time deciding what drink she would get, although in reality she already knew as she almost always ordered the same thing.

Amelia approached the bartender, leaning forward to rest her arms on the bar top so he could hear her over the various noises on the floor. "May I have a whiskey sour, please?" she said, placing the note in front of him.

The man looked at her for a brief moment before taking the money. "Coming right up," he replied with little to no emotion.

As she waited, Amelia turned her attention to the TV, not so much for what little entertainment it provided, but to appear somewhat busy so she'd be left alone. About two minutes passed before the bartender brought her her drink alongside with the change.

"Thank you."

Amelia grabbed the glass in one hand and the change in the other. She walked back to the table and once more, noticed a few eyes on her. The whole experience made her feel uneasy, but she shook it off and figured she was just tired. After all, she wasn't back home, and hadn't been for some time now.

"Here, thanks." Amelia placed the change in front of Owl and walked around to take her seat, simultaneously taking a sip of her drink and nodding in approval.

Gideon steepled his fingers together and leaned back slightly in his stool, putting his glass back down again.

"My primary business is in acquisitions, so to speak. People want something, I go and hunt for it for a price. Either that, or I just go out myself looking for nice pieces that people might be willing to pay a nice sum for. Could be anything. Parts, equipment, any manner of supplies or materials though I don't make it my business as a bulk salesman, basically anything that I judge to be worth the risk and effort on my part to obtain for a client . . . been doing it for a fair bit of time now."

Gideon turned slightly to take the change off the table as Amelia walked back, nodding to her before looking back over at Andrew.

"My pleasure . . . To this end, I know my way around fairly well and make it my business not to get into any trouble I can't get out of. If such a person is who you're looking for to . . . give you the ten-cent tour . . . then I leave that up to you to decide."

Max had disappeared from his eyrie behind the counter. Perhaps, a misophonic, he let loud noises and nosy conversations seep under his overflowing skin, and grate at his brain. Or maybe he was not fond of women, because following women often enough were men, carnivorous men biting and swiping at each other, scaring each other away from their coveted gazelle. (Women, no doubt, are a debated topic in the Zone. On one hand they can carry less gear and walk fewer miles in a day; on the other, they bring much needed morale to a campfire circle. And speak not of what fate befalls them when an enemy captor decides that death is too sweet a boon! In the ever-troubled minds of the hub barkeeps and tradesmen, women can bring either great profit through their smiles and laughter, or terrible chaos.)

But, no; actually Max had gone to fetch their plates. Toward their table he waddled, revealing his baggy trousers and his claustrophobic little boating shoes. They could hear the plates sizzling, yet he carried them in naked hands, his calluses having grown thick indeed. Even so, he was rather hasty with setting them down, in front of Gideon and Andrew, and wiping the heat off his fingertips into the grease-smeared seat of his sweater.

"Prost."

He had leaned down and forward, his gut gathering over his belt like a coven of witches and their conclave in the woods. "If this job is a delicate matter, we'd better speak in private," he said. He whispered, but not quietly enough for Amelia and Andrew not to hear.

Ah, fried bliss! its smells flied up to their noses now: the savory meats, tender lamb or maybe veal, had been hammered flat against a layer of brined grape leaves, and rolled up all together with rice. They smelled sweet meat, tangy vegetals, and the salt-water weeping out of the matrimony as if it mourned. Beside these beauties: a bed of pickled red cabbage, blushing red as a field of beets in the sunset; and red potatoes fried with thyme and rosemary. The spices were dried and bottled, though.

Max himself meanwhile had begun to walk away.

When Max brought their food, Andrew forgot about all about the guard and the stares. It was business as usual, Andrew could eat all night if he wanted to. But first thing's first, he had agreed to split his food with Amy. He took one of the bread plates from the center of their table, and put some of his Rindsrouladen onto it. He slid the plate to Amy coolly before he dug into his own food. He hadn't eaten since he'd left the airport that early morning and he was starving.

In between bites and after swallowing his food, he spoke. "Sounds like you get around enough to know the lay of the land. Like I said, I'm willing to pay a fair price for you to show me around a bit. Enough to not get lost where to avoid among other things." After finishing his sentence, he wasted no time before he took another bite. Any sense of situational awareness went out the door. He was so hungry he hadn't even touched his drink. Andrew's lightheaded feelings eased as he ate and the room stopped spinning. His boiling blood cooled to a simmer, and his heart-rate slowed.

Amelia watched as numerous plates were placed on their table. Her stomach grumbled in response to the various scents, although she had learned to just ignore it and wait to eat whenever she could. She’d lost maybe 5 or 10 pounds since her arrival, but it was also probably due to the insane amount of walking she did every day.

Andrew put some of his food on a spare plate for Amelia, and she thanked him before eagerly taking the first bite.

"Mm, this is delicious," she said as she pointed to the food with her fork. Despite her long day, Amelia was glad that she had walked into this one specific bar, even if her break from the real world lasted only half an hour. Moreover, she now had two additional acquaintances at her disposal. Maybe they could even become potential customers.

Gideon silently nodded slightly to Max's whispered statement after he set the plates down. He whispered back, turning he head slightly but not looking directly at Max, his eyes focused on the food.

"After lunch."

The food looked and smelled divine, but then that was what Gideon paid for. He enjoyed his food as he sat back and ate, watching Andrew and Amelia dig in, he was in no rush to go judging by his eating pace.

Finishing a mouthful he was having, he spoke to Andrew again.

"How much are you offering, and what are you bringing to the table? I assume you're carrying a piece with you but I prefer to know what we have to work with in case anything arises, or if you have any kind of supplies or other gear of note. Don't want to make this into a multi-day trip and not have anything to make camp with, eh?"

Andrew had been stuffing his face and had a mouthful of food when the question came. He took a minute to swallow his food and have a sip of his drink to wash it down before talking. He put his fork down on his plate and looked back at Gideon for a bit, deciding how to answer. "Yeah, im armed. But I don't have that many bullets...Don't expect me to hit what I'm aiming at either."

Andrew could feel the sidearm against his leg. His friend had insisted that Andrew use the conceal carry holster. It hang off the inside off his pants where it would be easy to grab but harder to find. He didn't want to take the gun back out, let alone have to use it.
"As far as what I'm looking for, I just need someone who can show me around this town, and show me on a map a few places to avoid. Perhaps a few things you wish you would have known when you first ventured here. As far as pay, I'm open to discuss it. Obviously depending on how much you tell me, I'll pay more."

Gideon kept his expression, flipping the thumbs on his steepled fingers in a gesture of irrelevance towards Andrew's comment on his shooting capabilities before returning them to their original positions.

"With any luck, we wouldn't need to get to that point, especially if our business is just in this town . . . but sure, if its just the tour around here, its easy enough to do. I could do that before going out on a job, hell, I could even do it from here unless you actually want the walk-around. I'll give you some very basic pointers that should hopefully avoid you killing yourself within a few seconds, and give you my interpretations of our little community here and its surrounding environs as I know them . . . And I'll do it for 250 marks in terms of a straight up fee."

Gideon quietly thought that he shouldn't really be charging anything for this information, anyone in this bar COULD provide almost the exact same information, it was mostly advice which most people would get from friends for free. But then, his pragmatic self realized three things: 1) Andrew probably knew better than to look openly like a lamb lost in the woods with wolves all around and therefore wouldn't want to advertise his lack of knowledge too openly by asking everyone in the bar. 2) Knowledge of any kind is power, and power doesn't come for free in any regard, so asking a price for this wasn't the most unreasonable thing in the world. and 3) The price wasn't THAT ridiculous, at least in Gideon's mind. More than a few wannabe Stalkers had met their ends by simply being stupid, there was a blood price to bolster the knowledge's market value slightly above advice you'd just hand out. But then, one could make money off of almost anything in The Zone if you could think hard enough or creatively enough.

As the two men kept discussing arrangements, Amelia only listened while she ate her food. It was simply common sense to stay the hell out of other people's business when it didn't concern her. She downed the rest of her drink in one attempt, and almost instantly felt some slight pressure in her head.

"Excuse me for a moment," she interrupted, pushing her chair back to walk to the restroom. This time, she couldn't care less whether people were staring her down. If they had a problem with her, they would have already made such matter clear.

Amelia went through the door, noticing it was a small, two-stall restroom. She walked over to the sink and placed her hands on either side of it, leaning forward to study her reflection. After a few moments of staring at a tired and slightly dirty face, Amelia turned the faucet to splash some water on her face.

Andrew looked at Gideon like he was crazy. "You're kidding right? 250 marks is a joke. You do realize that's still about 130 Euro's right? If you think I'm giving you 250 marks for a quick little tour of town and a few pointers, you're out of luck." Andrew leaned back in his chair. "Tell you what, I'll give you 100 marks. I get some, how do the Americans say it? 'Bang for your buck'? And you get compensated for your time." He tossed back the last of his drink. His friend had warned him of people charging ridiculous prices even for the smallest of things. Besides, Andrew could bide his time until his friend came back to the zone, and simply follow him. He leaned back forward to take another bite of his food.

Gideon briefly acknowledged Amy walking off before turning his attention back to Andrew, he was in bargaining mode. The guy wasn't a sucker, but Gideon still wanted the most for his time, especially if Max was offering something nice. He took a few more bites of his food as he listened before replying.

"Information that can save your life is no joke man, its worth a pretty penny out here, you wouldn't believe how many guys are buried out there for making rookie mistakes. But I'll tell you what, I'll meet you half way, how about 150? I guarantee I'll tell you at least one thing you had no clue about that could save you a lot of trouble later right off the bat."

He then went back to chewing some more of his lunch, intending to enjoy it, but not wait for it to get too cool as their conversation went on.

The water was surprisingly refreshing on her face, and Amelia couldn't help but long for a nice, warm shower. She wasn't like the rest of those savages out there who couldn't care less about hygiene, but that was simply because of their gender difference. The young woman grabbed a couple of paper towels to dry her face, but unfortunately, the pressure in her head didn't go away, and she figured it was best to let it pass with time. After all, it's not like she was poisoned.

Exiting the ladies' room, Amelia carefully walked back to the table. She refrained from mentioning anything to the guys and quietly resumed eating. She hadn't had a drink in a while and it could very well be the alcohol that was affecting her so quickly...or at least, that's what she told herself since the thought was much more comforting.