"Salvic pressups? No, I was always better at the more...active...games." John said, pouring himself another glass as the barmaid wandered back from their table, leaving the bottle and muttering something about drinking them dry.

He was wary though, and looked the man up and down again. If he was a bounty hunter come for John, he would need some friends. The price for his head delivered was nearly a king's ransom, and though it had been nigh on ten years since the massacre, the reward for his head was still offered, optionally attached to the rest of his body.

So I have some conversation, or knock some heads, then.

Either way was good.

"Like drunken fists, that was always my favorite. Never lost but once actually."