Clayton grins directly at the man as he approaches. His grin appears amicable only from a casual glance. Any man who got a good look at it would know right away that it was the same sort of grin you got from a prize fighter right before he punched out the lights of the next contender.

It was the calm before the storm. It would surely take all of Clayton's tact to defuse this situation.

"Well hey there, Sambo. What's a well-dressed darkie like you doin' in a disreputable establishment like this?"

...Forgive him, folks. He's from a less-enlightened time. And you don't get much more unenlightened than Clayton. Well, so much for tact.