So was Pernod, but Naim Shabaan preferred Ricard and he stopped at various cafés and bars to have one as he walked along the Paris streets. Earlier he had taken the Metro from Montparnasse to Barbes Rochechouart and walked along toward Place Pigalle and then Place Clichy. He stopped at various places, regardless of whether they were gaudy tourist traps or rough bars on side streets. He ignored offers for various kinds of sex and faced down two hoodlums who were thinking about mugging him but changed their minds because he so clearly was not afraid of them. Mugging people is risky work, and Naim, although he was not huge, was young and strong—he might be dangerous. Naim was aware that he gave off an aura of potential violence in spite of the fact that his hair was neatly cut, he wore a tie, his shoes were shined, he was polite. He decided it might be his eyes. There was nothing he could do about that because wearing shades definitely made him look sinister. Even he could not deny that.
