The black man scowls at Clayton. The blonde man rolls his eye, clearly frustrated by this turn of events. The bearded man continues to stare into a non-existent distance.
When Evelyn and Velma interrupt and try to smooth things over, the man in the suit's expression softens slightly. He now looks like he's just mildly annoyed, rather than pissed off. "Business. I'm here for business," the man states, his voice a deep, stern growl. He keeps it low enough, though, so that only the Kindred can hear him. "I need you to shut this place down for the night, and come with us. I would prefer we do this peacefully."
"We got a few other options..." the blonde man observes offhandedly. His accent is either Australian or British, from the sound of it.
"Yes, other options," the black man shoots a glare back at his eye-patched associate. "Llike I said, I'd prefer we keep this peaceful and professional. But one way or another, you're coming with us." He then adds: "Prince's orders."
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." the bearded man sing-songs under his breath, idly letting his gaze drift around the bar.