Raylan shakes his head, deciding not to give more of an answer than that. When they get inside, the hair on the back of his neck prickles in that unpleasant kind of way that tells him there's more going on than he's seeing. The pub itself is nice, clean, well-maintained with a penchant for the number thirteen and old-world decorations. Fits with whole Irish-and-weird theme.

He swallows down the ill-ease, rests a hand on his belt between his star and gun, and wanders up to the counter, keeping an eye on the other patrons and on Lia at the same time. One in particular has his attention, a familiar-looking fella with a dog the size of a small horse.

Raylan nods to the bar tender, touching the brim of his hat in salute. "Hey there. Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens. I'm here looking for a man goes by the name of Harry Dresden - got sent this way when I asked where to find him."