Just then a portly and gruff looking man stormed into the pub and looked furtively from left to right.

Everyone, patrons and staff, couldn't help but notice him. They also didn't notice Cailte slither quietly into a back room.

"Where is he?" the man bellowed. "Where is Mazinor?" The man looked like he was about to blow off some steam, not in a terribly friendly way, if there were indeed a friendly way to blow off steam when one is barging into a building.

Carroll, who was just newly becoming used to crowds, had had a bit of experience with drunken customers, but none who looked like they were about to hurt someone or something. He stepped up to the man with as much smile as he could muster and said over-cheerfully. "I haven't heard of anyone named Mazinor coming around these parts, and I should know. This is my Common-House. My name is Carroll." He held out his hand.

The angry man, who's hair seemed to be waving all about, stared at him with wide eyes. Looked down at the extended hand. Looked back up again, at Carroll, squarely in the eyes. "If you're hiding him, be forewarned, you don't want to get me angry. I'm not pleasant when I'm angry."

Turlough, who'd been sitting back and watching the scene with a grin, couldn't help but chuckle. "If this is pleasant..." he thought to himself and filed away details about the unusual character as an interesting addition to one of his tales in the future.

Carroll, after debating if he should kick the man out or try to calm him, put his arm around his shoulders and lead him to Silifrey's table. "What would you like to drink, sir? We have any drink your heart desires." He looked over at Silifrey and winked.

As the man sat down, Silifrey glared at Carroll and leaned away from the man, moving her chair a little.

Forgetting his troubles for a moment, the man looked up at Carroll and asked, "Anything"?