Salem glanced over his shoulder at Rathien as he reached the door of the bar. "Oh, I noticed. I also noticed just how poorly they were shooting," he said, half to himself. Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and glanced around the bar. "And how they seemed to know you were there before you did," he muttered to himself, quietly enough that Rathien might not be able to make it out.
Things seemed to have quieted down significantly inside. He did see Jocun and Ossanlin, though, the two people he needed to speak to.
He stepped inside and, after a brief search, found his briefcase-like case under a table. He frowned as he reached underneath to grab it- had he even been sitting at a table? He managed to smack the back of his head on the edge of the table as he stood up, but bit his tongue to avoid cursing in front of the War Prince. Ossanlin would already be unhappy with him, he had no doubt- there was no sense in making it worse.
Rubbing the back of his head, he walked up to Jocun. "Hey," he said, a weary smile on his face. He really was starting to feel worn-down. "I think I got pulled away for other business. I'm sorry. I think I owe you for those scans you let me take." He popped the latches on his case. "What would you say to a personal Dracon modification?"