Knuckles sits at a corner table in the shadows. Tixxon makes his way into the tavern, the weight of a plasma rifle slung over one shoulder. His silver gaze scans the establishment for a moment before he starts towards Knuckles table. Knuckles huffs as he sees the softskin approaching. "Knuckles see you hair not grow back yet. Knuckles think soft furless thing amusing." Tixxon bites down on the comment that leaps up his throat and sits, the rifle leant against the table’s edge. "You have news of item for me?" he says simply, keeping his voice neutral. Knuckles shrugs. "Knuckles no care."