[ That goon definitely worked for the Petrov family, and Nathan Drake, who is currently in the employ of the Riverside mob through some extenuating circumstances for the purposes of gathering intel, knows this. Which is why he watches in quiet observation as the poster boy for Aryan aesthetics absolutely decks the offending party, wrenching his arms behind his back with all the force of a guy who thinks he's justified in his citizen's arrest.
Punk. What year is it, 1995?
Nate meanders down the mouth of the alley from the street, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline in an unspoken question. The goon's a big man, but blondie isn't exactly lacking in muscle mass. He stops short a couple feet away, hands in his pockets, recognizing the face pressed into the asphalt as one of the Petrov runners who frequents the Riverside gambling halls. The sudden, sharp alertness from the runner means he recognizes Nate, too.
crime time
Punk. What year is it, 1995?
Nate meanders down the mouth of the alley from the street, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline in an unspoken question. The goon's a big man, but blondie isn't exactly lacking in muscle mass. He stops short a couple feet away, hands in his pockets, recognizing the face pressed into the asphalt as one of the Petrov runners who frequents the Riverside gambling halls. The sudden, sharp alertness from the runner means he recognizes Nate, too.
Conversationally, he addresses the do-gooder. ]
What'd he do?