“Honestly? Jus’ round the corner.” Danny explained with a slight grin of his own as they took a left from the bar and headed up the street, the air having a slight breeze that blew in their faces and carried the smell of the local Indian restaurant on its wings. Maybe if Danny hadn’t already eaten, he’d have been in the mood for a meal out. No matter.<br/><br/>As they reached the end of one block to cross the quiet street, getting distracted whilst they started to cross, Danny pointed out one of the sad-looking abandoned buildings that was over on their right.<br/><br/>“That used t’ be a bar called The Flying Pig. Great people, good food, but in the end they jus’ struggled t’ stay afloat.” He shrugged, then grumbled. “We’re prolly not far off…”<br/><br/>The barman sighed and took another left, his goal halfway up this street, and came to a stop in front of another old-world bar, the large blue gryphon certainly standing out, and from the noise it was certainly more lively.<br/><br/>“Ready t’ get beaten at snooker?” He said back to Steve, a playful challenge in repeating the country man’s words back to him.