"Apparently there's a bar that takes over Main Street."

Since she seems to need to hear it said.

It's a bar he still hasn't stepped all the way into, despite his easy-going exterior. His boot is keeping the door open, toe nudged up against wood, and his thumbs are in his pockets.

Whatever he might tell Parker, his own right hand is angled just slightly back towards his own sidearm. No sense in starting anything, but none in taking no precautions, either.

To the small blonde woman: "We don't." Short, to the point. The Troubles are the Troubles. They're not magic. They're bad luck, and maybe something else Nathan's never wanted to consider too closely. Even if they were magic, this seems to be of a different kind.

His eyes shift from her to the window, and his lips thin. The spot he's taking up behind Parker suddenly seems to expand, as he shifts slightly to her side, not actively getting between her and the window, but maybe edging towards that general direction.

But that's still not the most immediate concern. "What happens when I close the door?"