Okuri does his best to keep out of sight, to appear as one of the faceless servers that serve the patrons of the bar. Why would anyone, even a ronin, stoop to doing the menial labor of a heimin.

Because it lets us work. Okuri pauses his thought. In theory anyway.

The ronin keeps an eye on a low level Mantis taking a few drinks, trying to size him up as he wheels and deals in a booth.

Ryuhei hit the place to check if they did nights of rock or something along those lines here. He started asking around about the music profile of the club. Fine as it was, it wouldn't become his preferred place if there was nothing more than typical dance music in there.