"Call me Cliff.  The only people that call me Clifton are my parents."  Several of the nearby people do take notice of the gun, and shift a little in their seats, before going back to their drinks and conversations.  Ignoring them, Cliff takes the gun, testing the weight, inspecting the weapon.  "Hm, nice.  You do good work," he says.  He sets the gun back down on the table, sliding it back to him.<br/><br/>"How about we go someplace more apprioate, and you can show me just how good you are with that?"