Trent had just sat down at the bar when he felt eyes on him. When he looked towards where he felt it coming from, he saw Nora motioning for him to come back over to the table. He sighed, standing up, rolling his head and striding over there, leaning forward with his hands on the table. "You beckoned? Did any of you need a drink, or are we just going to have some sort of conversation?" His head tilted, his eyes lively, even when they glanced at Damian. The more he thought about it, the more he seemed less and less scary. He didn't want to think about what would happen if it came down to a fight, but he was pretty sure that as long as he didn't let the guy too close to him, he'd be fine. But, like he'd said, he'd rather not think about that.