 Why did Retief want to talk to the drunk?
THE MADMAN FROM EARTH BY KEITH LAUMER I "The Consul for the Terrestrial States," Retief said, "presents his compliments, et cetera, to the Ministry of Culture of the Groacian Autonomy, and with reference to the Ministry's invitation to attend a recital of interpretive grimacing, has the honor to express regret that he will be unable—" "You can't turn this invitation down," Administrative Assistant Meuhl said flatly. I've been tied up every off-duty hour since I got here—" "You can't offend the Groaci," Miss Meuhl said sharply. "Whaffle left here three months ago," Retief said, "leaving me in charge." "I don't recall dictating any letters today, Miss Meuhl," Retief said, pulling on a light cape. "Since I'm cutting out the culture from now on," Retief said, "I won't be so busy." Retief looked thoughtfully at Miss Meuhl. "You've been here on Groac for four years, Miss Meuhl. "Mr. Retief, those are just the sort of questions we avoid with the Groaci. The pale-featured Groacian vibrated his throat-bladder in a distressed bleat. "The importance of my task here," Retief said, enunciating the glottal dialect with difficulty. "The impossibility of access to outworlders. "To insist no longer. Outside, Retief stood for a moment looking across at the deeply carved windowless stucco facades lining the street, then started off in the direction of the Terrestrial Consulate General. The few Groacians on the street eyed him furtively, veered to avoid him as he passed. An elaborate one picked out in pinkish paint seemed to indicate the Groacian equivalent of a bar. Retief went in. A Groacian bartender was dispensing clay pots of alcoholic drink from the bar-pit at the center of the room. He looked at Retief and froze in mid-motion, a metal tube poised over a waiting pot. "To enjoy a cooling drink," Retief said in Groacian, squatting down at the edge of the pit. "To not worry," Retief said, irritated. "To get the lead out," Retief said, placing a thick gold-piece in the dish provided. "To choke in your upper sac," the bartender hissed, extending his eyes toward the drunk. The barkeep whispered something, and two customers came up to the drunk, took his arms and helped him to the door. "I've changed my mind," Retief said to the bartender.
 He wanted to know what happened nine years ago.
 He wanted someone to talk to on this foreign planet.  He wanted to know why the drunk was mad at him.  He wanted to know what happened nine years ago.  He didn't like how the drunk had treated him.