The sound of Jason's boots against the packed dirt beneath them was easily drowned out by the sounds of the crowd. Vendors, shopkeepers, merchants of all sorts shouted almost incomprehensable words in an attempt to obtain both attention and sales, but the one thing Jason wanted most attracted no sort of attention at all. In a port where sales were made by haggling and shouting, a single, cheap bar blended into its surroundings, boasting only a modest sign with the words "Lucky Day" over its only doorway. The place looked very poorly run, and worn out from years of customers and environment both, but it still brought a smile to Jason's face. Worn down, hole-in-the-wall bars were one of the few places he really fit in.<br/><br/>The change from Docks to bar was almost polar. Once the mercenary stepped through the swinging doors of the tavern, the sounds of crowds and merchants faded into nothingness to give way to the sound of drunks shouting obsenities, laughing, or talking, each one just a bit more loud and obnoxious than the last. Jason smiled a bit to himself and took a few steps over to the bar, lowering himself onto one of the few empty stools, far enough to distance himself from the drunks stumbling from table to barkeep, but not far enough to remove himself from the general bar ambiance. Afterall, he was amazingly comfortable hearing drunk men boast and yell at each other.<br/><br/>He smiled a bit to himself, and turned to the barkeep.<strong>Give me something with alcohol in it.. I don't much care what.</strong>Without so much as waiting for a response, Jason slapped a few coins onto the counter, the only way that he knew to get the bartender to actually honor his request. His eyes scanned the bar, though he wasn't truly sure what for. He knew he was looking for a captain that he had contacted earlier to talk about a job with, but he searched for more than that... a gun, a weapon, the looks of a fight brewing.. he searched for anything that might cause a bit of a ruckus, as he was so often taught to do, but it didn't occur to him for a few moments why he was doing this. His old captain and friend's words rung through his mind, striking at all the weakest points Jason still hadn't healed up yet.<em>Ya gotta keep your eyes open, Jason. There'll always be someone after yer hide, and you gotta make sure you see them first so you can make them dead before you end up dead yerself. Thats how you make it as a gun runner. Pay attention and you might work with me instead of for me one of these days.</em><br/><br/>John's words echoed through Jason's mind again and again, only starting to silence themselves when he took a few large swigs of the drink that sat on the table near him. It had only been months since John died, leaving Jason to fend for himself, and the wound that his friend's death left still festered in the mercenary. He knew that he could never replace John, and he would never hope to try... but he did have to make a living, and working as a hired gun was one of the few ways that Jason knew how. So again his eyes sweeped over the crowd, searching for the captain he had heard about, so that they could talk business.<br/><br/>But even still, John's words remained with him, and every time Jason saw anything that even resembled a gun or a weapon, his free hand dropped to his waist to rest on the handle to the large revolver resting in his belt.