It looks good.

You pick up the drink and slurp it down. Looking the bartender in the eyes you ask, “I’m about to get fucked by everyone in this bar aren’t I?”

He smiles, “I would imagine so.” He says unbuckling his belt.

You pull your gun, the room goes eerily silent, “What if I fight back?”

His smile looses a bit of its gleam and he lets go of his belt, his hands start to rise to show he doesn’t want any trouble. A quick look around the room shows, to your surprise, a look of actual fear in the eyes of the bikers, it would appear they are now positive that you are the most dangerous person in the room.