Starting out at a new place requires celebration. Celebration does not necessarily require a bar, but hey, they certainly do help. The atmosphere follows certain standards, the concept is standardized, and the no-matter-where-you-go-there-you-are feeling to most bars make them naturally comfortable to new people. New people like the eight-foot 'tosh slipping through the door. A bit skinny--actually, a lot skinny--but wiry and light on his feet. Dressed casually, cargo pants and a T-shirt. Looks friendly enough, if somewhat wary, batwing ears pricked up like antennae that could perhaps pick up conversations they shouldn't.
This is how he springs out of the way of the knife-wielding dragon running wildly (but not amok) through the room. From the rest, well, the conversation seems to between the canines. Seems as good a place as any to plant oneself.
"Quite, to the proprietor." He can read, the name's outside the door. "Just lemme get a charged glass, first." To the bartender: "Highball glass, one shot limoncello, ice halfway, then fill the rest with cola, please." He likes lemon cola. Once he gets his drink he salutes with raised glass, murmurs "fisehatak," and drops a good portion of it down the hatch.
"Hi. Name's Awake-Kzintosh." He looks over his shoulder at the dragon. "Should I even ask?"
Current status: acknowledged n00b.