It's still uncertain if Metz is with the bar group, so I'll leave that part vague and decide of Coinich doesn't speak up by the time the inevitable bar brawl breaks out.
The group heads out into the concourse, sealing the hatch behind them. Roscoe looks around curiously as they walk, seemingly trying to take everything in all at once.
"It's more crowded than I imagined, and everyone is dressed so colorfully. I feel drab."
Following his directions, you head deeper into the spaceport but turn off to one side before you get too far in. The condition of the corridor walls begins to deteriorate as you go, becoming less clean and the neighborhood becomes somewhat seedier. While the people around you aren't quite scurrying out of the public eye, the group is getting a little bit of attention.
The closer you get to the bar, the worse the conditions get until you are definitely in the bad side of the starport. Now there aren't a lot of regular folks just standing around. Those moving along the way are going quickly with their heads down. Except when they're watching anyone close to them. The quality of the clothing has decreased and there is definitely an air of desperation just under the surface.
When you arrive at The Last Ride you note that it looks like it's open for business. People are going in and out and they definitely look like a tougher crowd. There's no one timid here. The bouncers standing near the door are hulking goons that look like they could break weightlifters in half.
Somehow, though you're uncertain how, the smell gets worse when you go inside. The lighting is dim, and everything smells sour. It's noisy and at least a dozen people are playing darts against the far wall, yelling or jeering depending on the player and the shot. There are a couple of open tables, or you can go up to the bar.
Once again, Roscoe is looking around in wonder. It's as if he'd never imagined anything like this place existed.
"I don't feel so drab anymore. Now I feel overdressed."
What now?