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Normally he loved a good bar fight, nothing got the blood pumping quite like it, but even Gwaine had to admit he was out of his depth this time. But really, how was he to know the bandits he'd been tracking had a brute like this in reserve? It wasn't like they'd advertised the fact (or had they? He hadn't really been paying attention). So when the stranger threw his tankard at the brute's head and dragged him out of the bar Gwaine followed willingly.
"Hey, do I get my rescuer's name?" he asked once they'd got enough distance.
"Lancelot."