Just a little way outside the city of Detroit, Vin opened a modest inn, with a wooden exterior, and two floors. A sign hung off the exterior wall that read Ye Olde Tavern. The first floor is the tavern area, where mince pies, tea, and scones are enjoyed. It has a good few shelves stacked with books, which patrons are allowed to peruse at their leisure so long as they don't stain them. The second floor is the inn itself, with small but cozy rooms, feather beds, and lamps for those who enjoy reading in bed.

Though it looked like something from a whole different era, he couldn’t help himself but model it after an old Medieval-style inn. He even had the waitresses dressed in old-style clothing to fit the theme of the inn. Vin smiled as he looked around from the counter with his ledger out.

The sign in front of the counters stated:

$5 per night... 1 room.

$8 per week... 1 room.

Just along the way was another counter with food to be had. Another wooden board was posted in front of that counter:

$.05 cup of coffee

$.05 cup of soda

$.50 scones

$1 mince pie

$1.50 Sheppard's pie

$2.50 Steak

Vin realized he forgot to write on the board with the food:

Ask about the drink specials.

The wanderin' wonderin' but knowmad'tik'er'n stankyy leg't his way into a beautiful lookin' bar. His starboard side Bow of the bow twinkle't in the windz of the Midwest, the car'z bust'lin on thruu the streetz. The humm'n vessel'z sang their tune'z, and USS ZMSG prompt'er'd'lyy diddle'd what he doo'ded. Walkin' 'n 'ter tha bar, he gave a nod to the chap on the stool that eyeball't 'em as soon as he ente'r'd 'is space. The noddy'st of nodd'er'z just nodd'd on 'long as he kept shuckin n jivin with the groove. He ordered a cup of coffee with a Shepherd'z Pie, feelin'n'z his Gaelic rootz this'er'n young'night. He takes a look at Vin, the gentleman on the stool. Tips his Irish cap like the cup of coffee he was ready to tipp'bakk. 

'Ye Olde Tavern'. Not something you'd expect to see in the outskirts of Detroit, but here it was, and Sara couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. It had to be safe in there, right?

Slamming closed the passenger door of the taxi she'd been riding shotgun in, she waved the driver off with one hand while using the other, the one grasping a newspaper, to shield herself from the unexpected downpour that now threatened to flood the streets before the hour was up. 

"Jesus!" Inside, she was pulling off her coat and flinging it at the coat rack near the door. When she looked up, a few heads had turned her way, disapproval written all over their faces for her profanity.

"Sorry." People could be so touchy. Sara moved up to the bar and sat down, eyes already locking in on the order board. She wasn't even looking at the server when she began her order.

"Tea and scones sounds nice. It won't hurt my feelings any if the tea comes into accidental contact with some bourbon, if you catch my dr.... hey, do I know you from somewhere?" She did, she was sure of it. Virgil? Vaughn? No, that wasn't it. She'd been walking down the sidewalk and this guy she passed had said-

"Vin! Is your name Vin?"