He was totally finish in head and needed a good rest so he thought since the  Russo's Bar were next to where his feet just walked over a street-corner he passed over it and opens the doors and takes a seat after pouring up a scotch and sat down and enjoyed it to 100%.

It was always quite in here and thats what he needed now, silence and drinking a good drink would make him feel better fast and he could be furious again when getting out to do some more damage in the streets of Detroit before heading out to next location before sleep.

When Dembe saw this "Russos Bar" sign, he thought that its probably for italian people only. But as he got close enough he saw that there were many sort pf people inside.. white, italian, black, mexican.. so he decided to looo inside and opened the door. He stood by the door and looked around.. found himself an empty table and took a seat. Waitress approached his table and asked what a gentleman would like to order. Dembe ordered himself a glass of scotch on the rocks. Waitress nodded and excused herself. While waiting his drink, Dembe looked around a bit. He was certain that this place belonged to the Italian Organized crime family.. he had heard of them actually. The Russos Crime Family. Ruthless people. But it didnt bothered him, he didnt had any business with them. Waitress returned and brought his drink. Dembe thanked her and gave her a little tip, 100$. It was more than the cost of the drink but Dembe liked the girl. Waitress made big eyes when she saw the tip and flushed but thanked him for his kind generousity. Dembe smiled. He sat there for some time and enjoyed his drink. When he finally finished, he paid for it and walked outside. 

Vic walked into Russo's bar, the place had been a fixture of Detroit for a few years.  Vic ordered a Canadian whiskey for himself and his two friends.   They sat at the bar drinking and talking about being back in the motor city.  Vic had his hooks in the automotive unions and the teamsters.  

After a quick bite to eat, Bebe made her way down to the bar; Russo's Bar. She had never actually been there before but she had heard about it through the grapevine and so she decided to see what the fuss was about. 

"They make a mean drink...," she was told by a friend a few days prior.

"I'll take your word for it then and I'll go check it out next time I'm in Detroit..," she responded at that time.

Today was the day she ventured in, with James beside her, hand holding the gun holstered at his hip, looking around to make sure no one was going to cause any trouble. They sat at the bar and she waved over the bartender.

"He'd like a Whiskey Sour, and I'd like a Martini with two olives," she told him. "And make mine strong please."

After a couple minutes, the bartender placed their drinks in front of them. She took a sip and said, "Well.. This is definitely pretty great. How's yours?"

"Fantastic," James responded. "I haven't had one of these in a long time though. I'm surprised you're letting me drink on the job."

Laughing, she said, "It's fine to drink. Just don't get so wasted that I'm having to carry you to the plane. I'm not that strong you know.."

He laughed in response, and they continued sipping on their drinks for awhile. Soon she waved the bartender over to order another drink for each.

"This will be the last one and then I'll cover the bill and we can head out," she told James after taking a sip, who nodded in agreeance.

They both drank their drinks in silence after that, watching the people around them talking, laughing, working, conning...

After they finished, she put a $100 bill on the bar top, waving to the bartender as they got up and left the bar.