Diarmuid wasn't too concerned with other figures around. Most wanted to stay away from brawlers, the one on top seemed rabid. He was focused squarely on making sure Grissom wasn't going to tear his throat out. Diarmuid's teeth gritted as he saw the other man's eyes nearly pop out of his head. Then Grissom seemed to go cross eyed before slumping. Diarmuid pushed the unconscious man off him, sitting up with a wince. A Belter was standing there, the same elongated frame that Diarmuid had gotten used to seeing out here. He was armed so he kept a wary gaze on the man as he rose. Grissom was down for the count, he'd been hit hard enough on the skull that a bull gorilla would have collapsed. "Thanks" he managed, his own hand moving warily to his side. The Belter hadn't drawn on him yet, he was holding his sidearm by the barrel. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"