Damn his love of liquor and scantily-clad women. They'd be the death of him. Or at least be the reason he'd be coming away with a few missing teeth by the end of this. Ah well, nothing the exorbitant salary his boss paid him couldn't handle. The glance cast in his direction was met with amusement: not the first time someone had given him a look like that. Cute. Basher pulled away from the other man for a second to wander over to a booth, half-listening to whatever the blond twat had to say, half preoccupied with finding himself another glass of whatever the fuck this place was going to offer him.

Returning with a cup of something vaguely sweet and somewhat drinkable, the sniper knocked back half of his drink and swallowed with a grin. "Oh, I was listening all right. Don't mean that you couldn't of picked up something while you were being a fucking bore in the corner." said Sebastian, raising his glass to the man before downing it.

Punching Sebastian probably wouldn't sober him up, but it certainly would get his blood going. Drinking, fucking, and now fighting? Now that was Sebastian's idea of a good time. Shame the rotters who brought him here had been so kind as to take away his gun. Then again, it's not very gentlemanly to bring a gun to a fist fight, now is it? "Huh." said the sniper, looking around, then back to the other man. "But they, uhm, they got the beads. 'slike money. Just... free money. You got those, didn't you? If you're not going to use them, give them to me."

Despite the fact he was well aware the man didn't like him, the Colonel put out his hand, palms open and fingers outstretched. Seemed like a perfectly logical conclusion to ask for something someone wasn't going to use anyway. "And if you change your mind, you can just come and find ole' Basher Moran and we'll have ourselves a great time... uh," a pause. "Sorry, don't think I caught your name?"

And this is precisely why his boss hates it when he drinks.