Clementine hadn't gone to the spaceport that morning. Not the time for moonlighting, and work was probably scarce with the Imps in town.
The occupation seems to have brought out something subtly different in Clementine. Where usually he moved through the world affably, he had walked behind Kaneesa that afternoon radiating the sense of threat that he usually kept on hold until he was called upon to menace. His necklace of flattened restraining bolts had shifted, looped doubled around his left loading claw, more prominent to both eye and ear, and suggesting a chain wrapped around a human fist. He had also brought along a half-crushed keg, mangled earlier in the month when a speeder had accidentally collided with Clementine on a supply run (the speeder, and the keg, had gotten the worst of it). Heavy and jagged, when left in the Codpiece's storage room it just looked like junk; in Clementine's possession, it has the look of some primitive cybernetic cave-sapient's favorite head-smashing rock. If an Imperial ship flies overhead, he tracks it with his large, black photoreceptor, and keeps his thoughts to himself.
"I have an offer that the Madam may be interested in." Kaneesa gestures to a small crate that he has brought along with him. He cracks it to show a glint of bottle within its depths. "And some other things to discuss. I wouldn't waste her time."
The keg was magnetically clamped to his back, his arms full of stolen alcohol in a crate. He doesn't say anything to the bouncer, but projects impatience on behalf of his boss.
Are your really going to make us wait for another second?[Loom is now 4 advantages; assuming the keg is a large improvised weapon]