Noah turned red. "Well, I haven't. Got a problem with that?" He sat back down.

Francis chuckled and sat down. "Not personally. But I can see why you're in a bar alone then. Don't have a friend in the world with an attitude like tha."

Noah glared. "Ye wanna say that outside?" Yeah, he was a tough guy.

Just then, two young fishermen entered and Noah cringed, turned his face towards the bar and tried to make himself smaller. Tough guy he was.

Francis looked at him confused then at the fisherman and chuckled."I'm not much of a fighter myself really. Though you certainly look scared of them. What, owe them money?"

"I'm not scared," Noah said, but quietly, so the men wouldn't hear him. "Mind yer own."

"You're the one who wanted a fight. Not me." Francis shrugged as he drank his beer and held up his fingers to the bartender that he wanted another.

Noah on the other hand drank quickly now.

Francis grinned, taking his time. "See what having lack of manners does? You seem quite scared."

"I'm not scared." Noah hissed again.

Suddenly the two men made their way over to the bar, and Noah shifted, nearly dropping off his chair again. He found support on the bar, only to knock over his beer in Francis' direction.

Francis stood immediately to try to avoid most of the spill, though some did land on his lap. "Great! What a waste of beer." He frowned in annoyance. "No manners."