Damien walked through the entrance of the pub, his eyes flitted quickly …almost nervously across the décor as he hastily stuffed a torn newspaper cutting back into the pocket of his jacket.  He tugged at his collar, almost as though he was about to step out into a rainstorm and wanted to shield his neck from the shivering trickle of cold rain; but this was a gesture born from his innate nervousness.<br/><br/>One deep breath and a few steps forward and the smile returned to his face; “Hi ..Could I get a drink?” he asked and then mentally scolded himself; this was a pub, of course he<em>could</em>get a drink, “Names Damien.” he said with a smile.