"They run this place," the bartender says. "I don't think they'd share anything they know with an outsider."
"Our masters are meeting with them right now," Corelay chimes in. "They know a little about the Lopan and wanted to come in on the side of the existing gangs, see if we can cut them a deal..."
The bartender grunts in acknowledgement but doesn't say much else.
"Maybe if we know what they're dealing with we could get them what they need," Corelay says. "You don't think they'd tell our masters?"
"Probably not."
Corelay looks at you, not sure how to proceed.
You do notice a trend, there. Members of the 800 Gang all wear sleek leather gear, with "800" embroidered in the breast of their jackets, and various objects in purple. They're easy to spot since they run the place. Even the bartender, older man though he is, fits that description.
That leaves you with a handful of gangsters loitering about the warehouse that do not match the 800 Gang, clustered in smaller groups.
And then there's a man smoking alone at a standing table. Other patrons and gang members avoid him.