Still laughing and a bit red in the face, Mercedes turns to the man who has settled onto a barstool. 

"Whisky it is, then! Do you have a brand preference, Sir?" she asks as she grabs a tall glass for the stranger.

Kate accepted the drink gratefully, smirking and remaining still as Mercedes_Kompressor leaned closer. 

"I've heard a little about that other room. No dancing? Not my style. Participation is closer, although I don't think my ego could handle having to pay for my fun in that regard. I mean, maybe in fifty years, but now? Where's the fun if there's no chase, ya know?"

She grinned, stretching out her fingers where the condensation of the glass had start to accumulate.

"Never had experience 'partaking' in anything stronger than alcohol, myself. I spent a lot of time alone on the road, bumping from town to town. I know I can fight drunk, but I didn't want to risk anything that could knock me out. No buddy now, either, so I suppose that's out."

"The game room... now that's interesting. I've had quite a bit of practice playing poker. Funded my trip across the country and back, if we're being candid. But sex or poker? How could I ever choose?"

"And lets be honest, Mercedes, I bet you could rustle up a couple naked guys if you really had to. They'd just be shitty dancers. Men don't have enough brainpower to work their feet and... everything else... at the same time. At least in my experience."

Mercedes brushes a tear away as she tries to contain her laughter. 

"Ain't that the truth, though? Maybe that's why I've had no takers...they're just smart enough to realize they can't multi-task," she says, still trying to get a hold of herself.

"But seriously. I aim to please, so whatever you're up for this evening, I'm game. My shift is over in thirty minutes. I can escort you to the Den if you want to try something a little wilder than booze. Hell, I'll make them clear the room for you.

"If it's cards you're interested in, I can absolutely get you into the next round. I can't waive the entry fee, these guys mean it when they gamble, but consider yourself vouched for.

"And as for the sex...just point your finger at what interests you. You won't be paying this evening," Mercedes quirked an eyebrow and shook her head slightly. 

"I believe anyone here would be lucky to have your attention."

Kate looks up at Mercedes_Kompressor with doe-like eyes.

Don't make promises you can't keep, Mercedes. And flattery will get you everywhere. 

Chuckling, she glances around the bar again.

I dunno. I kind of expected that someone would be in to fetch me by now and put me back to work. But maybe I've earned a night off.

If the Den did happen, what would you recommend?

I'd probably lose at poker if I tried to play now; too many pretty faces walking around and distracting me. 

Mercedes skips through the drug list in her head, considering a few and outright dismissing others. 

"If you're feeling cerebral, the LSD is top quality. The effect could last for hours, though.

"The weed is pretty good, seems to be the most popular item here, besides the booze. I smoke some now and again but then I start eating and I can't stop. In fact, I wiped out the entire garnishment rack one night. Woke up in a pile of orange rinds and cherry stems.

"The coke is definitely fun. Doesn't last too long , you feel amazing, and you want to talk a lot. Everybody is your new best friend," she says with a twinkle in her eye.

"And sex, while on coke? Unbelievable."

Kate slams back the rest of her drink and rises from her chair, moving close to Mercedes' face. She's about to open her mouth when she feels a hand on the small of her back. She starts to whip around, hand moving toward her gun, but she freezes as she sees a boy- around 9 or 10- standing still behind her.

"Jesus, kid! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Uh. You're... you're Kate Logan? Mr. Gato needs to see you. He said right away. Some sort of project." 

Kate glanced down at the bar for a moment, angrily sticking her gun back in its holster.

"Looks like I'll have to take a rain check, Mercedes. But I'll definitely be back." 

Ruefully, with a lingering glance behind her, she exits the bar.​​​​​​​

A few days later, Kate limped into the bar and slumped into a seat as she winced slightly. She rested her chin in her hands with a small smile as she waited for a bartender- perhaps Mercedes_Kompressor , if the stars were so aligned. 

Mercedes looks up from the bar in time to see Kate collapse onto a barstool. She's silent for a moment as she takes in the woman's appearance. Nothing could deter from her beauty, but she'd obviously had a rough go of it over the last few days.

Mixing a Sunrise and placing it before Kate, she breaks the silence.

"Rode hard and put away wet. I believe that's how the saying goes?"

Kate glances up at Mercedes_Kompressor, the shine in her eye only slightly dampened.

"I wish I'd been riding hard. Got into a bit of a scuffle, instead."

Kate sipped the drink and closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

"How're things with you, Mercedes?"

Bishop slipped in quietly, looking about. He wore his typical fashion; tan slacks, brown boots, dark-green, long-sleeved button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tail tucked in, matching suspenders, a trench-styled coat that was open, and a leather driver's hat. He removed his coat and hat, hanging them on a rack in the corner before brushing a hand through his auburn hair. Spying an empty seat at the bar, he wandered over and took a seat, lighting up a cigarette and waiting for the bartender.

"Ugghh," he grumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead between his thumbs. "Can'ae believe tha wick. Swar 'im makes about as much sense as a back pocket in a shirt."

Yes, he was speaking to himself, it happens. He chuckled softly, shaking his head, and taking a drag off his cigarette before tipping the ashes into an ashtray in front of him. The menu caught his eye and he looked it over. He knew Gato kept the single malt here in the city, just not if it was listed.

Kate paused as she heard a familiar, mumbling brogue. She turned, smiling to hide the ache in her back.

"Bishop . Nice to see you again, after our brief introduction. Can I buy you a drink?"

Bishop looked towards the familiar voice, "Oy, Mrs. Logan, was it? I'd appreciate tha drink, rally. What kinna Irishman would I be if I refused?" He bowed his head in thanks before looking to the bartender, "Irish, single malt. I know ya got it here."  With a grin he scooted down closer to Kate so that, if she wished, they might converse further.

"What brings ya ta Dirty D's? An' where d'ya think tha name be from?"

Kate smiled.

"Miss Logan, not Mrs."

She watched as the the bartender filled a glass in front of Bishop.

"What brings me here? A desire to get at least fairly drunk, which seems to be effective medicine. I wanted to see who was out and about- such as yourself. And I was also going to chat up Mercedes_Kompressor if she has a free moment away from all her work. What about you- what brings you here?"

"And the name? Hell, everything I can think of dirty. Probably better to leave it to the imagination."

Chuckling, she samples more of the tequila based drink that Mercedes had made her.

Bishop returned the smile.

"Me apologies, lass. Miss." With a chuckle, he tipped his head to the bartender who poured his drink. As Kate answered his questions, he laughed even more alongside her.

"I suppose me imagination could give tha Dirty D a few names, hi? As fer what brings me here? Tha weat'er fer one, na ta mention bein' up fer maybe close ta thirty hours now, wee nap in between. Also a nice drink an' some good company before I go hit tha fer post inn."

He gripped his glass and raised it up into the air, "Slainte, saol fada chugat." With that, he tilted the glass back against his lips and let the drink pour into his mouth where it sat for a moment before he swallowed it.

"T'anks fer tha first round, MISS Logan. Yer next drinks on me," he crooned as he leaned over the bar top to wave at the bartender. Once she acknowledged him with a nod, Bishop sat back down in his seat and waited for her to come over.

"So that man ya talked to... Tha one wit' tha van," he paused and looked to Kate. "'E's off 'im's rocker, ya know that right?"

He looked at the bartender as she approached. "Another drink fer tha lass, here, an' fer me as well. On me bill, this time." She sat to work quickly, making another 'tequila sunrise' for Kate, and pouring another shot of the single malt Irish whiskey for Bishop.

As Kate drank more, Bishop seemed to make more and more sense. Although sometimes a phrase would float past her uncomprehending ears. The aches in her back and her shoulders were starting to dull, at least slightly.

"I won't say no to a drink, Bishop. Usually I'm a whiskey girl- but Mercedes here has me on something called a "tequila sunrise".

"And that van guy? He's worse than I feared. Caused a lot of issues on his way out of this life."

She shook her head, not wanting to focus on so negative a subject.

"So tell me about you, Bishop. What's your story?"

Mercedes moves up and down the bar, serving drinks to the now steady flow of customers. Looking down at her watch, she realizes the dancers are on break, which explains the sudden influx of thirsty folk.

​​On one of her trips past Kate and Bishop, she stops to politely introduce herself to the gentleman, whom she's not met before. Not wanting to intrude on what could possibly be family business, she continues down the bar to pour more drinks. As she prepares a Manhattan, she notices a tremor in her hands. Laughing to herself, she chalks it up to exhaustion. The only time her hands shook was when she'd developed a silly crush on someone. 

At that moment, Kate's laughter travels down the bar and the Manhattan slips through Mercedes' fingers and hits the floor with a muffled crack.

"So, a whiskey lass... That makes me proud ta hear," he chortled out, laughing as he did so. "An' I suppose what tha bartender made ya, that be this... sunrise?" Kate gave a simple nod as she took a sip of the drink before asking him of his past.

Knowing that question would arise at some point, he sighed slightly and took a nice long sip of his drink before setting the glass down and turning to Kate.

"Mostly, I been an army boy back in Ireland. Éire, I miss 'er sometimes. T'ings did'na quite work out tha way ya'd hope, someone very dear ta tha cause was kill't; by me own brothers even." He raised his glass at that point, "Slainte, Big Fellow," he toasted, and slammed the drink back before pushing the glass away in front of him. "At that point," he continued, "I left tha army an' found werk fer a few years while makin' my way up ta Northern Ireland. From there, I hopped a float ta America. Everyone been promisin' riches an' such. Tha's na what I found. Took me four years, an opium addiction, an' plenty o' wenches I shouldn'a shook another blokes dick at before I made it ta Las Vegas."

He ordered another single malt with a wave of his hand to the bartender, and Mercedes swung by introducing herself. He smiled to the woman, bowed his head, and introduced himself as well. "Bishop McGough, 'sa nice place ya got here." He nodded as she continued on her way and the other bartender dropped off his next drink. He took a sip before turning back to Kate and continuing.

"Once in Vegas, I kicked me addiction an' stopped wastin' all me hard earned money on tha' ladies. I cleaned up me act, an' waited for me opportunity. I knew there been money ta make in Vegas, an' I needed ta be at tha tip o' me game again."

He chuckled, sharing the laugh with Kate; the one causing Mercedes to drop the drink she was working on. Bishop yelled as it hit the floor, "OPA!"  He clapped at the sound and took a drink of his drink, followed by a cheerful laugh.

"That's where I met Mr. Gato, an' that's what bring me here. That pretty much be me story." Yeah, he'd left out a few key details... Like his name change, which army it was, the things that might bring up just who he was.

"What about yer story, MISS Logan?" he laid heavy into the miss comment.

Kate narrowed her eyes as she focused as Bishop spoke. Coming out of Texas and traveling around the country, she'd been exposed to several different accents- but this was a bit more intense. Sometimes a phrase like "shook another blokes dick" would confuse her momentarily before her brain caught up to her ears. She also registered Mercedes_Kompressor breaking a glass in the back. Didn't seem like her, after she'd made Kate's drink with such steady, graceful hands.

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss. And the hard times since. I know what both of those things are like, unfortunately- at least to some extent."

Kate paused, putting a dent in her drink.

"Well, the short version is that my mother died when I was fifteen and I spent the next five years getting tutored in the fine arts of lawbreaking and murder by one of the meanest, toughest outlaws who'd ever lived."

Who also happened to be my father, she thought to herself, as she unconsciously reached to the gunbelt hidden by her jacket and tapped the handle of her revolver.

"Eventually I made my way to Vegas. Then Chicago. Then here in Detroit. Mr. Gato impressed me, so I stuck around. Figured this was the place to make my fortune. And I've kept busy since then."

"That's the short version. Long version has a lot more feelings, sex, and violence. But who'd ever be interested in those, right?"

She polished off the remainder of her drink. Perhaps she moved too quickly; her shoulder started to scream at her and she lowered it to the bar, smiling to cover her discomfort.

Quietly removing the empty glasses and replacing them with a fresh single malt and another sunrise, Mercedes lets her finger slide imperceptibly across the back of Kate's hand. Kate was obviously in a lot of pain but was hiding it extremely well.

She had to. Showing weakness in their line of work was unacceptable. More so , if you were female.

As Kate looked up, Mercedes asked a question with her eyes.

Are you alright?

Kate smiled over the rim of her glass at Mercedes_Kompressor, surreptitiously mouthing "later" to the woman. There were a few things she didn't want to say in front of Bishop. Not due to a lack of trust; on the contrary, Bishop had impressed her more than any other associate in La Famiglia Gato through his actions in the streets and the business district . In her eyes, he had tremendous potential. But she was in a position of authority in Detroit and, while she had no qualms about knocking a few back with Bishop, she wasn't yet ready to admit to him that she was mortal.