Lifting his head at the question, Danny brushed his hair out of his blue eyes from where it had flopped over as he’d been busy bargaining with the brewing gods. Once everything seemed to be working and he’d made yet another test pint (to set aside for later, it was still somewhat drinkable), the bartender just acted as if nothing had happened as he straightened up properly to face the newcomer, the well-built man, and had to tilt his head up just that bit to look him in the eye.<br/><br/>“House special. Dark ale, hint of toffee. Comes highly recommended.” Danny shrugged casually as he rest one hand on the long wood handle of the tap that had been giving him so much grief. He grinned “If I do say so myself.”<br/><br/>But Danny’s curiosity got the better of him - in such a trade you certainly had regulars over the years - and he couldn’t help himself.<br/><br/>“Not seen ya in here before.” He commented, unable to place the man before him. “Ya local?”<br/><br/>It was a question that Danny was now used to asking, and hearing - for even now, years one, he’d never lost his English accent, although it had become less thick over the time he’d spent working in this old-world bar.