Not going to make a move?
Smoker was slightly taken aback.
These bandits had arrived with great fanfare, numbering over a hundred. They looked like quite the formidable bunch.
But in reality...
Not to mention him—even if they sent out any two of the Marine Headquarters elite soldiers under his command, they could easily take them all down.
Perhaps Mr. White Dragon had other considerations. Smoker could not be bothered to think too deeply about it, and simply lounged to the side with a cigar in his mouth, watching the show.
"As you can see, we're bandits."
The bandit leader swaggered up to the bar with a toothpick in his mouth and grinned. "But we're not here to cause trouble. Hurry up and sell us some booze. We want..."
He turned to glance at the number of his subordinates, then raised one finger.
"At least ten barrels."
"I'm sorry."
Makino had initially been a little nervous, but after glancing at Noah, she quickly calmed down and shook her head with a smile. "Sir, the tavern has just sold out of all its alcohol."
"Sold out?"
The bandit leader raised a brow. "Hey, hey, hey, isn't that a little strange? Are these Marines drinking plain water right now?"
"There really isn't any left." Makino apologized. "This is a small establishment. All the alcohol we had was right here. That's all there was."
"That really is a shame."
Noah suddenly spoke. Raising his glass in greeting, he smiled. "Looks like we drank all the alcohol here. If you don't mind, there's still a bottle over there. Consider it my treat."
Hm?
The bandit leader frowned and followed his gaze, only to discover that there really was an unopened bottle of sherry on the bar.
"One bottle?"
The bandit leader narrowed his eyes