It had taken far longer than he anticipated to lose the companion Moretti assigned to accompany him. The man was a bulldog, sticking to him to the point that Rodrick could barely take a piss without the man standing guard on the door. It was in San Antonio that he'd finally managed to ditch the man. He insisted on going to a bar on Saturday night, and one that he wouldn't have frequented had desperation not demanded it. He'd even gone shopping for the night out. Dressed in wrangler jeans, a plaid shirt, boots and a cowboy hat he purchased at a second hand store, he'd walked into walked into the country western bar at half past eleven at night. His companion, Tony, stuck out in his Italian suit and loafers, clearly identifying himself as an outsider. Half the people there were well on their way to being drunk so it wasn't all that hard for him to start a brawl.He'd simply yelled at his companion. "Don't you fucking talk that way about Texas!" Within thirty seconds the trouble started.
