Adrian observed Victor as he explained to Adrian how his rifle worked, but felt rather upset when it seemed that finding the rounds to it wouldn't be the easiest task. But for now that was the least of his worries, as out of the door a man in full body-armour fell through the door, head first down onto the floor, not too unlike what Adrian had done earlier that night. 

Flint was the first one of them to check the man, and since he was so quick to ask for some booze to clean his wounds, it was clear that the man was still alive, if barely. Adrian started walking towards the counter, when Twix grabbed a bottle and threw it to Flint before Adrian could, so Adrian kept walking. "I think the bar-keeper has some medical stuff down here, let me check. By the way, name's Adrian Whitestone, good to see that the town hasn't gone to shit yet." He said out to the others as he jumped over the counter. But instead of landing on his feet, his left foot hooked itself onto a pole that supported the roof, making Adrian fall down, on his face, again. "If there is a God up there, then he hates me guys..." He muttered, getting back on his feet and starting to search the cabinets for a first-aid kit. He only found booze, alcohol, more booze and alcohol, ashtrays and more of the usual tavern stuff, until he quickly rose up, holding a box up. "Found it!"

Adrian was careful, and smart for once, to walk around the counter this time to give the box to Flint, when he heard the thump underneath Twix's chair and saw the satchel lying there. "Hey, what's that?" He asked no-one really, and just took up the satchel to check it. "Somebody must have left it here when the bandits atta..." Adrian's eyes opened wide as he saw what was in the bag, not really believing it. "It must be a couple hundred dollars in this satchel!"