[I really hope it's his underwhelming guitar skills.]

Do I? Techie talk seems like it could tilt either way my friend, and you're dodging bullets I ain't even slung yet.

[He takes another puff. The robot zips into the tip of their table and drops a pair of pints down. Richie thanks him with an easy, "Muchos gracias," and skids the second glass to John.]

What do you think the consequence is? If you tell me too much. Is there someone else here you're watching out for? Some ancient god gonna rain down hell on you for spilling about the holy mission? I'd believe anything at this point.