swalinny walks into the bar and to the bartender. she screams:

give me some vodka and/or wiskey

she doesn't pay attention to the man coming closer. half drunk already she walks to a table with the man closing up on her. he stands in front of her and just looks. swalinny looks back and sticks out her hand.

hello i'm swalinny, now where is my drink!

Being new to the Detroit area, I'd set out on a brisk walk to get a lay of the land, learn my surroundings, as this was now what I called home. Coming to the end of the street an over the top neon sign catches my eye "The Fugitives Paradise"

"Well it has been an hour since my last drink, I am feeling quite parched." 

As I walk in I take in some of the familiar faces, obviously busy discussing business from their posture, I head straight to the bar.

 Smiles at the bartender

"I'm your typical woman, so a glass of white wine, semi sweet. Please."

 starts tapping my manicured nails on the bar top, looking around 

The doors swing open with a fierceness and a young boy falls through them. They clatter shut behind him and he scrambles to his feet, watching them keenly. 

He is well dressed, if a little rough around the edges. His hair is cropped short around the edges and long on top and his face bruised. His jacket is unbuttoned and shirt pulled from his pants. He is breathing heavily and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, checking it for blood. Clean. Across his knuckles are abrasions, which he now nurses, before straightening himself up. 

Nobody follows through the door. 

He promptly scans the room for occupancy and appears confident with his surroundings, eventually approaching the bar. 

Aoife swings through the front door cheerily.  When she walks, it's almost a skipping motion, and she always appears happy.

While waiting for her husband to finish conducting some business, she decides to hop a flight to Detroit and look around.  She is dressed casually, yet she looks put together very nicely.

She walks over to an empty table and places her handbag on top of it while sitting down in the chair.  She proceeds to wait for the bartender to serve her, all the while looking around curiously at the decor, and of course the patrons of the bar.  Aoife finds everything interesting, even the most mundane.

After a few minutes, the bartender notices her and stops by her table.  She orders her usual intoxicant, which is a double vodka on the rocks.  After he brings it to her and she gives him the money she owes, she relaxes and sits quietly nursing her drink.

Anthony fidgets nervously at the bar, struggling to let his eyes meet the gaze of John-Dillinger. He eventually raised his head and looked across the bar. The boy is of teenage years, most likely 14 or 15. Nevertheless, he remains silent and briefly scans the back of the bar. 

He opens his mouth and hesitates for a moment. 

"..."

Eventually it closes and he points in the direction of a soda. 

Anthony pulls a quizzical expression, then taking another look at the items on offer behind the bar, he lays his finger in the path of a different bottle. A bourbon of fair quality. 

He smiles at the barman. 

Aoife looks shocked at the suggestion from John-Dillinger of a cigar, since she has never tried one before.  But it doesn't stop her from slinging back a couple shots of Jack Daniels.  She giggles again, thoroughly enjoying herself.

"I'm sure Ranger will turn up soon, he can't stand to be away from me for any length of time.  I'm sure he will hurry it up as quickly as he can."

She helps herself to another shot, relaxing obviously.

"By the way, I am not nearly as helpless as I appear, in case your were wondering."

Aoife smiles adorably.