You and Twitch decide to take a seat well away from the guy, hoping to outwait him. You settle in and try not to look suspicious; you wait.
Turns out Spaz is a dedicated, if slow drinker; at the moment, he's fiddling with his PDA and cursing, he's apparently out of cash. You decide to try and make a move to strike up conversation with him - maybe lure him out, maybe bait him into trust.
When the two of you come over, he looks up at you suspiciously but without recognition; the miracles of alcohol, "S'nice PDA," you say; it actually is, "You think you'd sell it?"
Spaz grunts by way of saying no, "Can't par' with this 'un," he eyes the bottle of vodka you've brought over, "spare a drink? Might be able to give you a tip on one," you notice he seems much more lucid now that alcohol's involved.
You indulge him.
A few drinks in, he's loosened up considerably, "S'always good to meet stalkers willing to share a drink," he says.
"Well hey," you say, "the way I see it, we're all in it together, more or less. At least when we're in places like this."
"I'll drink to that," Spaz bolts down his glass, "no factions in the bar, just stalkers."
"Say, you mentioned something about a handle on those sweet-ass PDAs," Twitch chimes in; he's drank less than you, probably to stay as sober as he can with his smaller frame, "friends of yours sell them out or something?"
Spaz gives an exaggerated 'nah,' punctuating it with a laugh, "my friends and me, we're just guys out there, you know? S'just we know guys who know guys is all."
"Friends?" you ask, "What kind of friends don't buy their friend a drink?"
You almost think you've overplayed your hand; roll a d20 to see how Spaz takes the comment.