In the bar, Owen stood up, preparing to tail the two friends.
It was then that his attention briefly turned to a young man. The latter was making his way through the crowd, his eyes darting from left to right, from top to bottom like a crow.
Agent Owen's keen eye had already deduced that the young man was obviously searching for someone, or something.
Though intrigued, he refocused on his primary mission and headed towards the exit.
But as he reached for the door handle, a commotion erupted behind him.
Without warning and without taking the drink from his lips, a man who was sitting on a chair had stood up, towering at two meters and several hundred kilos; his eyes were the color of a storm and sparkled with anger.
Facing him was the young man from earlier who had slightly intrigued Owen, pressing his palms together and making a quick bow.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, very politely.
