You ignore the urging of the dagger and choose to have a drink with the men. What's the worst that can happen?
You sit down at the bar on the free stool to the right of the man in the jacket. He nods his head at you, and The Barkeep slides a frosty mug in front of you. You don't wonder how he keeps it cold and have a sip.
It tastes good. Before you know it, it's all gone.