The man at the bar splutters for only a moment before literal decades of tending bar in unpleasant circumstances comes back to him. He stays put and levels a stare that's angry - if not intimidating - and the antennae on his head seem to tremor with his frustration. "I don't bend to peoples' wills, but I do serve those who do well by me." His glance is reaching past Loki now, towards the dark-eyed trio that's rapidly approaching him and Jadzia with looks between confusion and bland annoyance. "Not trouble-makers, though. I won't have you in my bar - and you've bought enough so far that I don't feel guilty telling you to leave." The last word is said with a slightly louder tone, and one of the Betazoids looks over at them in evident alarm.

Jadzia, watching, catches on to the empath's apparent knowledge of just how upset one or both of the men are getting, and she'd rather not have an incident from either. A hand snakes comfortably over to Loki's forearm - thin but solid under what feels like real leather, how unique in this time period to not have replicated clothing - and she leans in decisively between the two. She's not immune to getting ino heated arguments that may or may not involve slamming her fist against someone's skull, but she's equally fearless in breaking up a potential fight. "That's all right, I'm starting to get a little blinded by all the ego-flashing anyway. From both of you." Her reproachful glance at Loki lasts all of a second, though, before she's urging him away from the bar with a questioning nod...that then looks at and lingers on her fingers against the dark hide of his shirt.