Laughing at the lack of subtlety, Bob gets the message loud and clear. Makes his life easier if people are making it obvious enough that they're not only comfortable with but up for the conversation running down those lines. His drink is already down to the very dregs and he lifts a couple of fingers to signal the bartender's attention for when he's got a moment.

"More of a Chelsea boy myself. But fair enough, football's not everything. I have other interests too," he explains with a cheeky sort of smile, promising without clarifying that he isn't going to sit here and talk the bloke's ear off about football.

"Nice to meet you, John," he adds, doing the mental maths in his head and deciding he quite likes the idea of chatting up an older man. Why the fuck not?

"Bob."

He introduces himself and offers out a hand for a handshake despite the fact he'd already cupped John's hand taking the nuts. Any excuse to be tactile.

"Another?" he asks, nodding down at the other man's drink as the bartender finally sweeps down the bar to take his order.