Interesting, Laren thought... Lasher was a name he knew as the leader of the Duskshrouds, and he wasn't afraid of Oscar the way this "Finkle" was. Still though, he was giving off a friendly vibe, perhaps of equality. He wasn't afraid to flex his proverbial muscle on front of Oscar. He was also not apparently bothered that Oscar now knew his real name. He obviously felt that Oscar was either an ally, or simply not a threat.
The panic on Finkle's face was a different story. Either he was afraid of Oscar, or he was just afraid of anyone who stood up to him. Laren suspected it might be a little of both. His hasty retreat from the Pint was clear evidence of the latter.
Laren threw back his head and let to a belly laugh, followed by a deep gasping inhale, and another round of laughter. "I'll be seein ya later master Dwarf! And ye too, there Fribble!" He began walking in the opposite direction he had been, and stopped only to fake a punch at the youth and shout RAA! followed again by his gut clenching laugh. "Ah, the youth! Scared o' me and my muscles!" he flexed at the few who'd gathered and watched. "I'm so strong!! From upwind!!"
He hoped it wasn't too odd, Oscar suddenly walking a different direction, but he wanted to allow the two a moment to get some distance between them before he decided what to do next.
He was intrigued by his notion that Oscar may have some measure of respect among the ruffians of the city, and considered approaching the guards at the door to the presumed hide out and see what he could gather by just standing in front of them and staring blankly... But then, he also imagined Lasher was on his way to the Pint, possibly taking the round of Hawkberry Brandy as an open threat. Since it was on Laren's tab, he figured he should be there, should trouble happen.
With a sigh, he decided to leave this side adventure he'd concocted in his head about Oscar being some kind of king pin, and get back to what was important. Once the two were back under way, he stopped dead in his tracks, made a show of looking around as if he'd just realized where he was, and turned back around in a bit of a hurry. He didn't want to lose sight of MacTeague.
"Have you seen my chicken??" he asked no one in particular. "Here Gerry! Bok! Bok! Buh-GARK! Where's my chicken!?"