He follows Al in, looking around curiously, obviously measuring up his environment and judging the appropriate way to respond to it. He may be uptight -- at least, he knows Al thinks so, and while he hates to agree with anyone else's judgements about him on principle, he wouldn't be inclined to disagree -- but he also knows how to blend in to a place just fine, once he figures out what kind of place it is. This isn't so different from a lot of the bars back home, and he'd obviously handled those adeptly.

So, like the chameleon that he is, his posture seems to shift a little, to grow more relaxed; it's almost as though he's shaping himself to fit the scenery around him, the crowd of men who he imagines will be drunk and disorderly before the night's done. Sitting down beside Al, he lights himself another cigarette off the remnants of the old one, chain-smoking as always (supposedly, it's a terrible habit, but it's not one he's interested in breaking himself of.)

The alcohol, once it's brought to them, will be met with an enthusiasm that may just be more of his attempt to fit in, but that may also be genuine excitement about the chance to get the liquid form of relaxation into him. The not insubstantial glass of whiskey, at least, is downed in two gulps, and then he sets the glass down and offers Al a slight smile.

"I take it you come here often."