"Oh, yes I do!" Mason said, rubbing his bruised body. There didn't seem to be any obvious broken bones at any rate. But he was wasting valuable time.
"Will you come now, Terran?"
"I—I have an appointment," Mason said. He realized the futility of trying to run away again. There was a blaster in his pocket but it was hardly possible to gun the creature down on a public street. "I can't stay," he said.
"You can't? We'll see about that."
The Mordargan equivalent of a bar was a long, low-ceilinged place dimly lighted. Curious fumes of alcohol and other things drifted in the atmosphere. Mason could see Mordargans lying prostrate here and there, some of them totally unconscious, others contentedly sucking on feeding-tubes.
There was no way to escape the obstinate conviviality of the alien who had encountered him. Mason's only hope was to make a quick exit once the Mordargan had decided he was through drinking.
"What'll you have, Terran?"
"You name it," Mason said. "I'll match you drink for drink if you'll pay."
"Fair enough. We'll start with gruuna. Straight?"