Adam took a sip from his beer as he looked around the bar. The first thing he looked for was the exit; the second was the people in the bar.
He folded his presence inward, leaned back against his seat, and looked for the "tics" of these people.
One, at the front counter, looked boisterous, telling some story to other patrons and the bartender, but from the way he laughed, it sounded forced, faked. His micro-expressions were twitching minutely, not because of the laugh, but because he was lying. He was a man in his early forties, talking animatedly, as if telling a grand story, but his left brow twitched just a little bit whenever he lied; it was his unconscious tic.
The second one was sitting in the back, but a bit ahead of Adam, facing him. He looked around, then looked at his watch, waiting for someone. By how his leg was rapping against the floor, he was impatient or was waiting for a long time.
In another corner of the bar, two people were talking rapidly over each other. One of them had a small plastic pouch of white powder in his hands, clearly drugs; evidently, he wanted to sell the powder to the other person, who, judging by his sunken face and erratic movements, was a junkie who needed a fix soon. Over this, they were arguing, and the tension was rapidly escalating toward a brawl.
There were two more people in front; they were relaxed in this environment, seemingly already accustomed to everything here, talking in hushed voices. One had a bald head with a small scar on his left cheek. The other man had a fat belly and a small beard that was clearly not maintained properly.
By observing one of their facial expressions, Adam could deduce that they were discussing something important, with the other's face showing skepticism, seemingly not believing what the first man was saying. From their attire and mannerisms, they appeared to be from a gang.
Adam continued observing these people while slowly taking small sips from his drink. After a while, his glass became empty. As he was about to ask for a refill, the two people who were arguing over the powder started a brawl, one shouting about how the seller was charging way too much for the powder, while the seller just wanted to get away from this whole mess.
Adam observed them without changing his expression, watching the brawl unfold as if it were merely a drama on a stage. He had no interest in stopping them from fighting. He looked at them on a deeper level, how the junkie's micro-expression showed how desperate he was for that pouch of powder, his hands trembling slightly as he grappled with the seller.
The seller proved stronger than the junkie as he pushed him back and gave him a right hook. He was furious, but when observed closely, his micro-expression twitched in a way that told he was incredibly nervous, indirectly showing everyone that he was selling drugs for the first time.
They continued their brawl for some time, no one coming to stop them. Everyone was enjoying themselves by watching the fight. Adam also took advantage of this, seeing every muscle twitch before a hit landed, every tic, and he felt a cool, refreshing feeling in his mind, telling him that yes, his potion had been digested a little bit.
Adam could tell that he needed something extraordinary to make any good progress in digesting his potion; otherwise, with these fights and conflicts, it would take him ages to advance to the next sequence.
Just as Adam was enjoying the sensation of his progress, the two men who apparently were from a gang got up from their seats because of the commotion the fight was making, and the fight ended when the bald man took out a gun.
Suddenly, the whole bar had gone quiet. The ones who were enjoying the brawl quickly turned, lowered their heads, and pretended to mind their own business. This was Hell's Kitchen, where gangs rule with an iron fist; no one wanted to mess with them and get themselves in trouble.
"Fuck! Stop, you fucking bastards. If you want to fight, fight outside, not in here. You're fucking ruining our mood," the bald man barked, keeping the gun raised with a scowl on his face. He was angry for being interrupted. He pointed the gun at the two people who were fighting.
The two people who were just at each other's throats were terrified; their faces had gone pale, and in their eyes, Adam could see the fear of death clearly.
"Please! Please don't shoot. We will get out of here at once," the junkie begged for his life.
Their expressions were telling Adam how terrified they both were. With a gun pointing at them, they raised their hands in the air, slowly and quietly, and moved outside the bar.
With that, the whole place turned silent. The gang members went back to their seats and continued their discussion as if nothing had happened. Adam was disappointed that the performance had ended this early; honestly, he was also enjoying the fight a little bit. He had no idea if it was because of his powers or if it was already there, even before his powers awakened.
Adam got himself a refill of his drink. After finishing his beer, Adam got up from his seat, paid the bill, walked out of the bar, and headed home.
'I guess it will take a lot of time to digest the potion with this small-scale spectating. I need some real conflict to spectate, or I can only wait till the whole chaos starts from Tony Stark's kidnapping.' Adam thought as he walked. Thirty minutes later, he reached his apartment.
Adam opened the door, and the first thing he did was take a quick shower, change for the night, and get into bed.
'Tomorrow I have an interview… I did not ask when I had to be there for the interview.' Adam realized dryly.
'I guess having an enhanced mind does not mean you know how to use it. I'll have to call Pepper to get an approximate time for the interview. Sigh.' With that thought, sleep came for Adam.