Lou steps into the bar and quickly finds a free stool at the bar.

Hey bud, you guys broadcasting the Red Wings game today?

Lou asks as he lights up a cigarette and loosens his tie.

It's been a crazy two days, and it doesn't look to be getting easier soon. Barkeep, can I get a strong coffee with a little Irish in it, yeah?

*Franco walks in to the irsh pub and sees his boss Valmont.

*franco walks over to the bartender and gets to dubble scotches on the rocks.

*Franco pays for his drinks and start to walk towards Valmon.

*Franco takes a seat in front of Valmont and hands him a scotch.

T-Man was wandering down the busy streets of Detroit,When he spotted a Irish Pub in the distance.When he entered the pub, he seen Skorpeon behind the bar.He walked over to him and begun to order his drink.

Hi mate,Can I smoke in here?Oh and the drink,Can I have a pint of Guinness please.

T-Man finds a black bar stool and pulls it over to the bar and sits down

Sneaker slips into the bar, remaining in the shadows. Its been a long time since she had been out in public. She hopes that she goes unnoticed. She was very tired of hiding. It can be such a lonely existance.

But, alas, it was for the better. She had to get away and get away fast. She looks around for a waitress hoping this isn't ran by anyone she knows.

Lordian wanders into the Irish Pub, smelling the Irish cooking and whiskey and staggers himself over to a corner.  It's obvious to anyone looking that he's been drinking a bit and the waitress feels a bit awkward taking his order, but as long as he doesn't make a scene she'll get him his whiskey and corned-beef.

He takes out his pad and starts to write.

As Sneaker is watching the door and waiting on the waitress, she nearly faints when she sees Lordian walk in. What is he doing in Detroit? She quickly realizes she is in the wrong kind of bar. She watches as the waitress takes his order and then comes over to her. She quietly places her order so he does not hear her.

The waitress walks away as Sneaker is looking for a way out where he would not see her. There isn't one. She decides she has no choice but to take her chances. She is not ready to explain anything to him yet.

Lordian continues to write as he waits.  His drink arrives and he continues to write.  He writes and drinks, and drinks and writes.  He places an order for another drink which arrives with his food and only then does he put his still open pad down.

He takes a deep sigh and for the first time looks around the room through hazy eyes.  The place seems pretty full and has some nice decor, but he's too depressed to really pay any attention to details.  He begins to eat and drink a little bit.

Sneaker watches him. It appears he is already drunk. She wonders what he is writing. Everywhere he goes he writes. The waitress brings her her drink. She drinks it and continues watching. She looks at the door and towards the back double checking. There really is no way out. She is going to either have to wait him out or get trapped into a lot of explaining.

She raises her glass to the waitress signaling for another one. She sighs heavily. Everything is so complicated now. Sneaker freezes as he looks around the room. Oh yeah, he is drunk alright. Maybe she can get out of here after all. He doesn't seem to be that alert.

Lordian notices the waitress walk away from a corner table with one less drink on it.  He stands and walks over to the bar and asks the bartender for a plate of orange slices.  The bartender hand his a plate with a few slices with a quizzical look and Lordian just nods and heads to the corner.

He gets to the table and places the plate in front of the woman sitting there.

"I'm sorry, but I saw what you ordered and I can't help but bring this over, squeeze one of these into that drink of yours and it tastes... He stops dead as he finally looks up at the woman and almost falls backwards before catching himself on a chair.

"Oh my.  I...I'm sorry. I just can't, you look just like... I..." Lordian tries to leave but his legs have gone numb and he can't seem to get out of the chair.

Out of nowhere she watches as Lordian gets oranges from the bartender and heads her way. Ah, well, there is no escaping now.

Sneaker watches as he barely saves himself from falling. His shock is plastered all over his face. She takes one of the oranges slices off the plate and squeezes it into her drink.

One of these days the bartenders will learn this trick. I think you better sit in that chair.

Lordian shakes his head. "I can't get up right now.  My legs have gone numb, I... I just... you were..."

Lordian starts to reach out toward her and stops dead. "How?"

Sneaker looks around the room. All kinds of people milling about and if Lordian is here ..

I don't think this is the right situation for an explanation. All I can say is I had no choice.

Sneaker cathces a shadowy figure out of the corner of her eye. She knows that walk. She watches as they begin to engage the bartender in conversation.

I must leave. Now. I'm sorry.

Sneaker slips out of the bar in a split second.

Lordian sits, shocked as he gets up and goes back over to his table slowly.  He sits and starts to write something new in his pad as he watches a pair of shadows go over to where he and Sneaker were just talking.  They rummage around, but apparently find nothing and leave in a frustrated manner.

He pays his tab and walks out only a moment behind them.

Ire was back in the city of the Detroit and she had heard news that a bar in town was putting up some competition for her own establishment, she knew that wouldn't be good for business and decided it was time to go check out the place and see what they had to offer.

Obviously Ire decided to bring Alfred with her, Alfred was always very good at spotting details of the operational section of the businesses, he knew it better then anyone else she had ever meet. She had been working with Alfred for years, he had also worked for her mother since Ire was a little kid.

They both left the Hot Dog House and entered the Irish Pub. The place was well situated on a busy corner of downtown, so that would always score some extra costumers. As they walked into the bar, they immediately noticed the friendly and comfortable atmosphere of the place.

"Alright, Alfred, now we need to go around this place and observe every single detail. Let's see what they have to offer that could possible steal our costumers." Ire said to Alfred before both took their own ways inside the bar to start their research.

Danny Green  walked in an.d he had a 1000 things on his mind....bad news from the homeland, his nephew had lost his life in the service of the IRA.  He knew this day was always possible but it still trobled his heart to loose one so good at such a young age.  Danny took a seat and ordered a pint of guinness and a corned beef sandwhich.  As he waited for his order, he pondered the long list of valuable men who had given their life that Ireland might be free.

Drago walks in and takes a seat at the bar.

Hiya barkeep can i get some Vodka.?

Dean Obanion walked in and couldnt hold back a smile.....Barkeep, I'll have  an Irish whiskey and a pint to wash it down with if you please.

Clinton notices this bar as he freshly walks down Detroit's streets. He takes a notion to step in and have a pint or two.He comes in as everyone stares here and there,people bustlin and havin a good time.Clinton pulls up a stool and ask's for a beer..

A drink - that's what Lilac needed. On her way from the candy store she'd bumped into some thugs eyeing her up and down with trouble written all over them; she'd made a hasty exit, not wanting to draw any more attention. Her flight was in a few hours and she had a busy schedule ahead of her with just a few moments to pause for some refreshment.

She was passing a bar, not noticing much about it until she caught a waft of whisky...an Irish bar. This would do just fine. Retracing her steps, she hurries inside and is instantly overwhelmed by the sticky heat of the place. It was busy, full of familiar old smells and some not so familiar faces. She wondered if anyone here had ever met her mother, maybe had a drink with her, shot the breeze. She looked nothing like her, so any recognition was certainly out of the window; she'd inherited her father's colouring and temperament, often lamenting the fact that she felt she lacked the same grace as her mother.

She shakes off her coat, wrapping it around the back of an empty barstool and sits down. Some rum would be perfect with one or two pieces of fudge, she thinks as she checks the time. About a half hour should do it, then I'll be on my way.

Waving at the barkeep, she orders a double rum straight up and makes herself comfortable.