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| The Shebeen | Started by: JohnDoe on Feb 15, '16 01:12 |
You manage to say all the right things to the two suited thugs that were sporting the drum fed, Thompson machine guns and you now make your way through a sturdy steel door thats embeded under one of the bridges in the city. Inside the portal you move along a short dimly lit, but clean and dry corridor that you find suprisingly, lavishly decorated, complete with artwork mostly depicting horses. The corridor is even lined with an oviously expensive red carpet that soon leads you down some steps, into what is infamously known as the Shebeen. You have entered into a beautifully large, open planed area. There is a circular bar situated in the centre of this giant ballroom. Dotted around the bar are two dozen, small, circular dining tables, dressed with brilliant white table cloths, silver ash tray and each table is illuminated by a single, silver candle lamp. Around the circumference of the large room were a dozen large booths complete with heavy crimson draw curtains. Within the booths were spacious sunken lounge areas, dressed in expensive green leather seating and designed for groups of up to eight or nine. Each booth seems to have it’s own personal waiter(ess). The entire room’s decor is filled with rich warm wooden details lit by reflective copper ceilings. Various people mingle in low mumblings around the room. A small four man band has set up near the bar and is playing a low relaxing Irish ballad throughout the room. It’s then you notice John Doe sitting alone at a table listening to the band. He take a few puffs of his smoking pipe and then necks half of his pint of stout before he notices you. Wide eyed and smiling, he tips his glass to your direction in a salute and continues the in a long sweeping gesture indicating for you to make yourself at home. He turns his attention back to the band, his pipe and his stout. A young handsome waiter soon appears and ushers you to an empty booth and sets down a menu gently in front of you he turns just as equally attractive waitress arrives with a tray of small crystal glasses with a clear and oviously potent liquid. "Poteen, smuggled from Ireland." informs the waiter as he sets down the complementary drinks and a small bucket of ice from the pretty waitress's tray before dismissing her. "Please take your time looking at the menu.” happily suggests the waiter. MENU
The waiter suddenly coughs politely gaining your attention “Oh! Sorry and excuse me. But I forget Mr Doe has asked me to inform you, that besides owning this establishment Mr Doe fancies himself as a professional tailor and he would be very honoured if you would keep him in mind if you ever need a new suit, family crest or sponsor crest. Many of his past (high & low profile) clients ended up with a whole wardrobes filled with his family's suits. Think about it!?! You would be one of the hippist gangsters in town with your very own selection of different suits that you can don, anywhere, depending on your mood or the occasion. WAR!....put on your war suit. LOVE!....put on your Ann Summers. This service is always discrete and done in a timely and profession manner. His constant aim is perfection in every piece of clothing he makes - nothing but the finest quality will suffice. Mr Doe applies the same rigorous standards to his ranges of custom, made-to-measure and ready to wear clothing and to the unique crests he designs. Bespoke tailoring is the core of his business. Please do not hesitate to mail Mr Doe with any specific question, he would be too glad to help." The waiter then takes out a small, black leather bound flip book and a pencil from his inside jacket pocket “Now.....Would you like another minute or would you like to place your order now?” the man says licking the tip of his pencil. |
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