You're walking down a side street in Chicago, when you see a weathered dark wooden building built into a three story complex. Above the door is a sign that says 'The Blood of Sicily'and under that, is lettering that states 'fine drinks and conversation'. You have some time on your hands so you step into the building. As soon as you walk in, your nostrils are flooded with the scent of pine and maple. You look around to see booths lining one wall, and another section filled with dartboards and billiards tables. You see a middle-aged Italian man wiping off the counter and he looks at you.

Good day to you, my dear patron, welcome to 'The Blood of Sicily', newly remodeled and still serving an amazing variation of sodas or coffees. We also have a small pool hall and a row of dartboards along with other blank tables for any creative games you come up with. We also sell prophylactics in the bathroom incase you see a fine lady or man of ill repute. Of course, save it for the bathroom. I don't want to see that kind of shit, and I'm pretty damn sure that my well paying customers don't want to see that either.

He looks at you, and realizes who you really are. Then he looks at the back door then back at you.

We have poker in the basement, some games are high stakes, others are for fun. Talk to me, and I'll give you the doorman's password. (Via Pokerstars; ask me for the ID and password)

He leans on the counter.

And if you're here for something a little bit stronger than soda or joe,  we've got men all over the world that want you to enjoy your beverages. Of course, this part isn't very well known in order to keep the doughnut patrol at bay, so speak easy about it. So what'll it be?

He sets his cloth on the table, grabs a glass, looks at it through the light, and begins to wipe it with the cloth.