Tad chuckled at hearing the question about mobsters and psychology that Pencil posed to him...

"Well, yeah I definitely started out with a struggle to get people to share. It is usually viewed negatively for somebody in our line of work to share too much whether it's with a cop or a psychologist. I've done my best to assure people that it won't help me to know what they've done. I'm under investigation by so many groups and agencies that they'd use any information I tried to share to set me up for a nice prison sentence." He shook his head at the thought before finishing off his drink.

He popped the top back off the bottle and poured himself some more whiskey. It had been a few days since he had been able to take a break from all his work so the whiskey seemed to hit a bit harder. 

"A bar of your own? That would be nice and I'd be happy to help you out with it from the standpoint of shipping you some alcohol to stock the shelves." He said as he leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table in front of him.

"I think Schedar would at least keep it afloat. The profit might not be there, but I can't imagine he'd completely run it into the ground." He smirked.

What a week it had been for ol' Gimpanzee - Failed robberies coupled with a little bit of therapy!  He was happy to get back to the bar and put his feet up for a bit

He spotted TadKnackered at a secluded table with what looked like a familiar face from Philly - It was Pencil, an old friend from back in the day

"I am glad you accepted my offer of accommodation while you are here on business.  As you can see.. we've plenty room and I just knew you would enjoy the ambience here at Tad's watering hole!"

He turned to TadKnackered

"Don't think I forgot about your request as I was leaving the other day" He said as he brought a brown paperbag out..

"On my way here I popped into Pancakes Only and decided to pick up a few tasty treats for whoever fancied them.  Plus I was hopeful Pencil would frequent at some point and I know she has a sweet-tooth"

"Now Tad, you better find the stodgiest pancake since you need something to soak up all that whiskey!"

If it wasnt for the amount of alcohol luna consumed thirty minutes or so ago, she wouldnt be trying to strip in front of the people at the bar. its not like she was the odd one out though. it looked like everyone was trying to have a good time. however, she couldnt help but feel like she was being watched, but sober was far from what luna was feeling like. she could care less.

The bartender was giving her looks. "its just a bad night and i need to refresh my mind" said luna depressingly. "with alcohol?" that was a good one, luna thought. pretty smartassy too. yes with alcohol mister baldheaded spit fuck, do you have a problem with that? luna took one last shot of vodka before slamming the shot glass hard on the bar counter. that was enough entertainment and drinks for the night. as luna began to walk disorderly towards the exit she thought she caught a glimpse of tadknackered waving at her. or maybe it was just her eyes playing tricks. at this point luna didnt even know if it was actually tadknackered or just a doppelganger. either way, luna waved and smiled smugly. 

She walked out of the bar and tried to grab a sense of direction for where she was going to go next. ah! home thats right. sitting in front of the fireplace and hoping that she wont have a massive hangover in the morning. 

Al_Guzak had been in Detroit for a form of business meeting, and whilst waiting for his flight home to Las Vegas he decided to stop by to a bar on the main road. The taxi pulled up and out stepped Al, a smartly dressed mafia member in his three piece suit in a darkened blue colour, a hat on his head as he adjusted himself he paid off the cab so he could leave and made his way inside, away from the storm brewing outside.

The atmosphere inside was unlike anything he had imagined, people sitting and standing at the bar, talking amongst themselves or to the bar keeps if they were locals and in friendly terms. Al was not from these parts so didn't dare push his luck, he would keep to himself, have a drink and leave. That seemed like the clever solution.

As he approached the bar, he squeezes in between two people talking, leaning up against the bar he gestured for the barman, "a glass of your finest whiskey on ice" he called out over the noise of chatting people and others gambling at tables. He slid some notes across the bar before waving his hand. "Keep the change" he nodded before lifting a cigarette into his lips, already rolled, Al didn't smoke tailored, nor cigars. He found himself a table in the corner where he would spend the next few hours.

After spending hours of walking around to find those bad boys running in the streets of Detroit that many are afraid of and try to hide from he takes a break and walks into the warm bar Knick Knackers to settle down and find his breath with some good bourbon inside of his cold body so he could continue his quest to make sure to help out cleaning the streets here in Detroit while vising his fav-city like he now were doing.

it had been a while since Jacky had stepped off in these streets, and he needed to get his eye back on the haps. He gets himself together and rolls a blunt for the stroll. Just down the way was a bar just good enough for a brief moment to scope out the scene, and maybe a few familiar faces he may recognize. He tosses his Fedora on and hits the block. The scene wasn't that much different from before, and the hustle still moved forward. He lights the blunt as he bends a corner and takes a few drags before he enters the bar.  

After a busy day at the work, Sal decided to grab a drink or two. He saw this pretty crowdy spot and decided to take a look. He entered the place and looked around. Didnt saw any famikiar faces, he went and took a seat. Waitress came and asked what a gentleman would like to order. Sal looked at the drinkmenu and decided to order a russian cocktail. Waitress nodded and said she'll be soon back. While waiting for his drink, Sal smoked few cigarettes and read some newspapers. Waitress came back and brought his drink. Sal thanked her politely and gave her a nice tip. She smiled and thanked him for such kindness. She excused herself and continued serving others. After two or three drinks, Sal was wasted. He was tired anyway and cocktails did it job pretty fast. He paid for his drinks, ordered a taxi and drove to his apartment.

I miss Tad, he was my therapist you know.

and by therapist I mean drinking buddy. Therapists are for rich people who have daddy issues.

It was difficult to find a bar in Detroit that didn't have a sign prohibiting the spanking of chimps. Kafka had no idea why that was the case, since clearly, it seemed like it would be an unsaid rule. Nevertheles, as he walked into an establishment explicitly prohibiting just that, Kafka felt like this might not be a bad place to have a drink. Perhaps he might even catch someone violating that rule and see what consequences followed.

But that was for later. Right now, he was recovering from a very long day and just wanted to have a drink, and perhaps play a game of pool if he found himself in good company. Flagging a nearby waiter, he thought quickly before deciding on what to start with, "Get a bottle of rum and some limes, yeah?" 

Tutte visits the Knick Knackers Bar and directly before asking for his drink bourbon assure he loves chimps and never spanks them if he spots any. he smiles together with the barman and then he enjoy the good room-tempered bose

"Hey get me a bourbon...and some cashew nuts."

Stumbling in with his red and black suit, his eyes mischievous as he looked for signs all over this place. It seemed to be one of the few bars that still drew a crowd, something that not many saw in Detroit, well, he was looking to operate within it's confines and that meant working with one of the few men that could give him some power in the streets. 

That was the advisor as well as close second to the Don, Newt_Scamander, he was a man that held himself with some standards. For a while, Rom had decided not to speak with the man besides the occasional talks at the family compound. He was someone that kept to himself, well, at least in his eyes, for a while there, he didn't really know what to do or have a word about the man. 

"Hey, barkeep, keep informed if you see Newt walk in here alright?"

The man gave him a nod, as if that was all that would be needed for right now. Something that he nodded his head in a grudging amount of respect too, he enjoyed the bartenders. They always had information that not many people would have known, it often took a while to get it out of them and then it took a lot longer but it was something he wouldn't forget. 

Finally, his cashew nuts and bourbon were settled in front of him as he finally held himself high, relaxing into the stool and enjoying the soft styling of the in-house violin player....

Newt had a long day working on some shipping routes out of his warehouse down on the docks and felt that a drink was needed to end his day. His father's bar was not too far off and it had been some time since he checked in there. It wasn't always the easiest to be there and not find him, but the drinks helped to make him forget that as well. The backdoor was always watched by one of his men and he quickly opened it up to let Newt inside. 

"Thank you. Keep up the good work." He said in a monotone voice as he made his way inside the building. 

Going in through the front sometimes caused him to have to interact some of the street thrugs who would do anything to try to get connected to the 1/2lber organization. Which usually meant a lot of nodding and fake laughing to get them to shut up. Many in his position would go the route of intimidation to get them to shut their traps. Perhaps that option seemed more appealing which caused him to start going in through the back. His father always told him to not let this business change him too much...

"How are we doing this fine evening? Grab me a nice whiskey from the top shelf." He said as he sat down and placed his suitcase on the bar in front of him. 

The bartender nodded and went off to grab the bottle...

As he came back and took the top off the bottle he finally responded to Newt's initial question, "Things are going well tonight boss. Plenty of cash coming in this week and all drop-offs have been made on schedule."

Newt downed his first drink, "Good to hear. I knew I kept you around for a reason. Top me off again and leave the bottle. Also...."

He reached inside his suitcase and brougth out an envelope, "This is a little bonus for all the hard work you've been doing to keep this place going since my father passed. Hope it can help you out with your daughters medical bills."

"I...I...thank you sir. It should definitely help. Oh, by the way sir Rom is down at the other end of the bar looking for you." He said as he shook Newt's hand and tucked the envelope inside his jacket. 

Newt nodded and picked up his suitcase, drink, and the bottle to make his way down to that end of the bar. He quickly sat down and placed everything down in front of him. Rom seemed to be enjoying his drink and a snack as he waited for Newt's arrival. He was lucky that Newt had even shown up here tonight.

"How goes it Rom?" He said as he sipped on his drink. 

Rom monitored a lot of things around, the way they shift in the air had happened when that door had rattled open. As if commanding the entire room to look upon his being as if he were a god himself, that was something Rom understood working once as a Basketball, you commanded a certain level of respect when you were a big man on campus. When you were the one that assisted and often guided the team to win multiple championships and secure themselves as a permanent presence in their society of equals and lessors.

When Newt walked into the room, everything revolved around him, the street thugs bowed their heads in respect. Almost bowing so deeply that their heads would soon touch the cold tiles. Some even placed one hand on their chest, where their heart would be placed, as if giving their lives to the man within an instant. Newt was a boss, he commanded the room, and he had earned that much. So Rom knew that the man was someone he could not waste time with but yet, he asked him, how he was?

He sat down, the man and that briefcase, it was ever present and always at his side. For a moment, Rom had thought the man had been concealing a bunch of drugs in there. Yet that would have been below his station, someone like him, someone who still commanded the eyes of the entire room upon him did not simply carry drugs. He had plenty of runners to do so for him, with that, Rom had given the man a single nod. One that gave him the respect he had earned, deservedly. 

"I've been doing well, after that moment in the police station and that trucking depot. I've been wondering if there are any other ways of making money around here. I've been given a chance to do that but I need to know the stance of the organization I'm working with. One that you are familiar, considering that it was...Gimpanzee who bailed me out and gave me this fresh start, one that I am ever thankful for."

Smiling, lightly, one that had him looking up into the eyes of Newt for a moment. The man didn't seem to be fazed, he watched him, blank face as ever and drink in hand. That was the scary part, the man hadn't even moved from his position before. Newt was someone that had a reputation, yet he wondered how far this reputation went. 

"I need to know the rules of...product in our crew. I have an alliance with a family out south, one that involves such product coming into Detroit and me, through various runners, making sure that we all make the money necessary. Recently, production has increased. I need some help, if the crew allows for what I'm doing here..."

If it didn't, well, he would need to find some other ways of doing his business, one that had to be under the table from the man in front of him as he waited for Newt_Scamander to deliver the news he needed....

The question posed was not one he had not heard before, although it tended to be from people trying to operate outside the organization here in Corktown. Usually asked with a bit more of an upset tone as he pointed a pistol at them, but still they were the people who usually made such inquiries with him. While 'product' was not something he was a major fan of....he knew it was something that made money and if it was somebody outside the organization making that money he would be less of a fan of it. 

"Hmm." Was all he responded with at first as he swirled the contents of his glass around and rubbed his chin.

Eventually he turned to his suitcase and opened it up out of view of Rom. From it he pulled out what appeard to any normal person to be a small stick that was broken in half followed by his M1911 pistol. He continued to rummage around in there as the gun sat menacingly on the bar between him and Rom. Not even for a moment did he worry or consider that the gun was in a bad position for his own safety. 

"Ah, here is what I was looking for...." He exclaimed as he pulled out a file from his briefcase. 

Flipping through the file while Rom could only just sit there and wait for a true answer to his question about 'product' in regards to the 1/2lbers organization. The pages even at this angle could be seen to have some words and numbers scribbled all over them. 

"Well, I'll be the first to say that product as you referred to it is not something I myself favor when it comes to the many rackets and money making opportunities we have here in Detroit. I am a sensible man though and business is more important than my moralities on the subject." He paused only a moment to take another swig of his drink.

"Gimpanzee and myself allow and in certain ways particpate in the business ourselves while allowing others in the family to do so under a watchful eye. We also expect our cut and if you need to use any shipping services to get the product into Detroit we expect you to use my warehouse and shipping business. At least until you find a place of your own that we can deem safe for business. We cannot afford any fuck ups in this racket." He looked up from his notes to make sure Rom was still paying attention.

"There are only two rules outside of those expectations. Do not sell to those who are twenty years of age or younger. If one of your men does so, they will be shot and you will owe us a larger cut of the profits that week." His eyes showed no emotion as he shared this first rule.

"The second rule?" Rom inquired. 

"You get caught by the feds or local police that havent' been paid off. You keep your mouth shut about your affiliations and deal with the situation on your own. The feds may be constantly going after liquor, but drugs can give an organization a bad name if things go wrong. Especially in regards to the first rule. So, does this all sit well with you Rom?" He said as he finished off his second drink of the night.

Frowning to himself, he did find himself speaking about the rules, but he was curious, he deemed a curiosity to know. Working with the Cordelia's and how they got the stuff into the states already was something that he needed backing with. With how much they were preparing to bring in, it was something that could give an organization a bad rap sheet. 

"I understand what you're saying, I don't deal to underage kids. They deserve to live a life, one that doesn't get fucked by the hard drugs. Marijuana, sure, let them get fucked off their asses and enjoy it to their heart's content to the other dealers but not my guys. You have my word on that and if any one of my guys does anything like that, I'll personally put the bullet in his brain my self."

His voice grew steely, and he could see that Newt showed no outward emotion to that, how long had he been in this world to make himself appear like the grim reaper himself? That was the part that got him, his would-be scythe stood in front of him, on that counter. Decorating the bar as if it was a normal piece of the aesthetic, yet that part made him nervous. 

How no one even went silent, how everyone continued moving about their business without a care in the world. Or it was the fact that they all did their deal, they knew how Gimp and Newt operated, it was no surprise that there was a cold edge, it was always going to be there. He was never going to be forgetting that, with a bob of his head, he adjusted to that harsh reality. Maybe they couldn't afford to smile too much, maybe they had to be this way in order to show that they were not to be pushed around, it was clear. 

"Actually, you have a warehouse and shipping company? That could work, my suppliers, they want me to be the biggest distribution for them in the six cities. I want this, Newt. I'm not stepping on anyone's toes doing this, it's a big leap but it's something I want, this life, one of being a big man campus, a boss, a dealer, a distributor, it's set up for me now and I think it may just be for me."

Bowing his head once again, he took a few of the cashew nuts and tossed 'em in his mouth as he chewed without a single inch of mercy. This was the way he would have to be in the future, every piece of business, every little piece of his territory would have to be secured, and he knew that this was the beginning. 

"What would be your role, Newt? I understand but if I had someone like you, working with me and supporting me. I would have a lot of backing, this would prove many things, that people don't deal in Corktown without your say so. A permanent presence, one that would stop the petty dealers from being the vultures they are, I know I don't have to ask you this. You get it, you understand and this would be something to send a little shock wave through what is the boss' territory, eh?"

Maybe he was playing a little risky here, but he wished for Newt_Scamander to join on the team he had, with him, the fear of their business, the numbers that would be supplied by Newt's business and then his mentality for ruthlessness. One that set him apart from the others, he was not a loose cannon, he had a true grip on himself and maybe that is someone needed on board for his approach to the drug game...

Clear as day he could see that Rom was level headed and a go getter. Atlhough the two did not always go together and one could sometimes overshadow the other. He hoped that if that ever would be the case it would be Rom's level head that overshadowed his go getter attitude. You never wanted to see promising talent fly to close to the sun. Burning wings, gravity, and all that from the old greek tale. 

He stretched his arms and cracked his neck as he settled into the conversation, "Well, I can obviously be the shipping arm of the operations while you oversee all drug specific operations in Corktown. I can admit that it would be nice to have a central head at the top of the drug game here would be more beneficial than smaller units. You'll have my backing on this."

Newt could see that Rom's go getter attitude was gaining some traction at hearing this response from him. The whiskey probably helped loosen him up in these talks so good timing and choice of location for this conversation by Rom. 

"Now, I will handle protection details of shipments and my warehouse of course. Once the deliveries are made to any of your locations you will be in charge of it. If there is a police raid, missing product, or just any sort of fuck up then it will be on you if my men have already delivered it. I'm not a completely cold hearted bastard though. I know that every machine is made up of many cogs. I do not just blindly punish those at the head of an operation if it is clear what cog of the machine was faulty. You understand?" He poured himself some more whiskey.

The bartender came over and gave Newt an envelope, but one that was different from the one Newt had given him....

"The last drop off was made. Everything for this week is in there. I counted it myself." He then took his leave to continue serving drinks to patrons.

Newt place the envelope into his briefcase and then turned back to Rom...

"Good, cause what me and my boys will offer is the best goddamn product ever since in Michigan. We already have a few people wanting to assist us, Chicago and Las Vegas for example, out west is something that people need a bit of our product and ambition. I understand that this is something you can't trust fully yet, what we do and how we do it, how it's going to operate is going to be a little more different from what you're used to and that's what we need. A mix up of how we do things, not always by the book but as I said before, you have my word, we'll be following the rules."

It was clear that the genuine respect was there and it was not faked in either direction. It was a clear first winner for all of them right now, the words that Rom had used were not a simple how can you operate and let me convince you, no. He was given the man the truth of what he was going to do, how he was going to do it and all within the bar. Newt_Scamander needed to know that there was more he had to offer, maybe a lot more but for now, the Mexicans and their drugs were the only game he had in mind.

"This is going to be good, I can tell you that with my word and my boys. We're not shit talkers, we're going to be getting this business done and over with. From the moment we step into the warehouse, our minds are going to be focused on moving the weight. Don't worry, it's starting in a few small drops here and there, see how we handle being the main distribution and how we move from there is going to be a lot more difficult. I'm just glad you saw this another way, with a little assistance."

Rom allowed himself a cheeky little smile, something that he had often done to make sure that he didn't allow himself to soak up all the negative shit he was doing. He knew that yeah, it was hypocritical and the fact that he wanted some kind of escape did not go over his head in any form. Rom was far from the angel of the league, he was a gambler, a dealer, an earner, and he was going to make sure that he survived this game before long. He had to, whatever came with this life, he would keep his head higher than possible.

Sinking in this life was not an option, he didn't need the lakes that were filled with the sharks and fish that would come to nibble and take chunks of his crumbling empire...this, what he wished to build, in its entirety was going to be bigger than anything he could have ever imagined and all of it was coming from Newt and Gimp, that one job had opened him up to another life, one that had a bigger pay and bigger risk. 

"Oh I know you're not a cold man, Newt. You have your time, you have your moments, yet someone like you cannot afford to be the smiling man that he was, what? Years ago maybe? It's understandable, this business doesn't allow for too many happy moments. So we take them when we can, it's not something that I'm going to take for granted."

Drinking his bourbon, pouring himself another, he didn't really know what was next except to wait for the one shipment that would change his entire life. From player of the game to distributor of the game, it was easier to state it that way, and he found himself sleeping easier at night. 

"Been a good week? Let's see that tripled in another week, eh?"

A smirk played at the boyish man's lips for a moment before leaning back, settling in the stool as he continued to give the man a simple look. One that told him, he was playing but the tiniest bit curious.

Newt let a slight smirk sneak onto his face as he could tell he liked this new up and coming member of the 1/2lbers. He hadn't engaged with Gimp yet on his thoughts when it came to some of the new faces around the headquarters, but he knew Gimp wasn't too hard to keep happy. Newt on the other hand was always watching and always making slight judements on how his members behaved, operated, earned, and handled a gun. Although he was not quick to jump to the gun, he always had it as an option if necessary.

"If it even just doubles I'll be a happy man and I may just find myself having more time to smile." He poured himself another drink and possibly his last one depending on how he felt after it.

"You seem very confident in this racket. I hope that confidence pays off. Just take it from me though Rom. You don't want to get carried away with any far off plans you might have in your mind about this business. Stay in the moment and do what you can to stay above ground with enough cash to keep you moving forward. There is a thing as too much cash and not many will tell you that honestly." He spoke with hope that Rom would become a strong member of their organization for years to come. 

He spun around in his still and looked out into the 'ol Knick Knackers Bar that his father had built and operated before his passing. It had been pretty successful and now it was one of two bars that he owned himself. Many nights had been spent here learning some of the ropes from his father. His father had a happier disposition than you'd have expected for a man who operated in the mob and as a pyschologist. Many had wondered how you could be so entangled with these people and know exactly how their brains worked and still be smiling. 

Newt must have taken after his mother...

The man that he was, he had a feeling that Newt had some amusement at his expense. The way he was working in this little agreement of theirs, it was going to be interesting to see how much this kind of thing worked. It was certainly going to be something of a big thing, involving various people from all over the city, he could see that Newt had a way about him, there was a ying and yang effect going on before him. He wondered if Gimp was the one that kept the smile in public. 

A small interaction that had him introduced to the family, one that brought him many opportunities and one like this was not one he wished to pass up in any capacity. So he measured himself, Rom knew that he was growing in the business and that maybe with each step he took, with each little wave of his fingers, he could grow himself. Rom wasn't looking for anything big, he wasn't hoping for a promotion of a piece of the pie in Corktown that made him lead a thirty man family of his own. 

No, he had it sorted, he wanted Newt_Scamander and Gimpanzee to trust him with the little things. He was comfortable being the street guy, the one who worked with the petty dealers and the big time players. He would find himself with his little piece of the pie, it would take so much to get there, but he was willing to put in that effort. 

"You're going to smile if it's double? I should do that a lot more, this is going to be interesting. Tell me, would you ever mind assisting on overseas business? Sometimes payment does require me being there in a more public setting, sometimes I will have to be the man and others, well, my superior will have to be the one that goes forth in...assuring suppliers that the demand is being met."

Pouring himself another glass, he could see Newt loosening up, a smile playing at his lips was all that he needed for that moment. The man had his moments, but he was sure that within a snap of his fingers or less, the man who operated with cool and calm efficiency would be back to show people and maybe, him, how he kept men and women in line.

"I know I have to keep myself centred with the business that I am going to be entering, a lot of people have found themselves becoming bigger than their organizations…and I know, that is the moment when I will be talking with you and not in the way we are now. And that colt will be staring me down, on that day, I will be ready to accept my fate."

Then there was nothing more to say, the silence was telling, Rom would never become that way. He had said that he was comfortable being the man who assisted with keeping the low level petty dealers in line, he had said it in his head but the words were implied. Newt needed to know that he was facing this. 

A smile and then, slowly, he raised his glass in cheers to the man, letting him know through actions that the day was never to come. He was here to help them, in whatever way he could.

Ron tips his fedora at Rom and smiles inwardly as he remembers his great grandfathers fondness for this place.

I still find it hard to believe my great grandfather drank in the bar his therapist owned, but hey, they were different times.