Axel remembered Conn's efforts, fondly. Or was it fondling? He was hazy on that, as Richard Shots was about and Fiona too. His sax was on display for all to bare witness. And oh how they did. Many a fan was had that night, and it's why Axel was here too. Not for the sax machine himself, or itself, but rather the new place and the music.

If Axel could play an instrument he'd be up there jamming too. But there was only so much you could do with a hand axe, and the sounds it produced were more akin to a doctor performing open heart surgery on a fully conscious and non doped up individual. Maybe it could add a bit of flare to the joint he thought, but no, this was all about Conn and his fandom.

Axel pushed his way through the mass hysteria outside. Screaming women. Men fainting at the thought of the sax machine in action. It was like a virus ready to break out and put the city into Conn-fever. And Axel began sensing, as he shoved a sixty something year old with Conn's face on a piece of paper, that if they didn't get let inside soon downtown Detroit might turn into a riot zone.

Once inside, Axel went straight for the bar. He was starting to hallucinate, he thought. Could he have really gotten that big overnight? Then, as the barmen quickly provided Axel with a double shot of whisky, it hit him. Richard. Shots. He must've got the perfect shot and it's gone tabloid. Axel still questioned if he was really that big, and thought he must see Richard or get the latest pic from the paper stand on his way out.

For now though, more drinks. Axel took off his fedora, placed it on the bar then looked around for any others he might know or recognize..

Unsure if the place remained open (several businesses had signs in the windows declaring they were permanently closed...one had been blown up entirely), Merci tries the door, finds it unlocked, and enters. There are people milling about, but she's not sure if they're patrons or looters. Either way, they seemed happy enough, so she proceeds to the bar and has a seat. The former owner had been a cohort of her mother's, and she herself needed to make more contacts in The Business, so here she was, hoping to meet some people she could do some work with. As an assassin, the pay was great, but it wasn't something that kept you busy much.

No bartender was in sight, so she reached over the bar and helped herself to a bottle of gin and a cocktail glass. All she needed now to make herself a martini was...there is was. The garnish tray. Green olive paradise.

Blowing imaginary dust from the glass, she pours it neat and adds three olives. Sighing at the taste, she sits back a bit and looks around for a friendly face.