Smugglers, Rock and Roll and the rise of the PLF

[oZoneRanger]

The bartender chuckled. "Domingo there.." He said leaning in towards her and speaking in a voice under the level of noise of the crowd.

"He's one of the best around here Miss. Never been known to leave a partner down and out, type a brother that if he can't do anything to help ya, he will at least take a share in what ever misery you are going through"

His tone is friendly in a bartender type of way, off the cuff, speaking in generalities as if it was something he would say about anyone.

He continued to wipe down the bar. "For example, I got a friend ..and he has got this niece.."

He reaches for two fresh glasses. "..and that niece of his.." His manner is sarcastic, serious and at the same time comedic and then in a split second the tension in his eyebrows tightens, his eyes get glazed over with severity. He sets one glass down with a solid knock.

"..she really... REeeeally likes him ... and 'I' .."
He does the same with the second glass, but instead of a knock its a sharp low thump, raising the eyebrows of those with in a meter, but not drawing unwanted attention, making sure he was driving the point home.

"... I just don't like disappointing my friends niece see..."

He starts starts a really sloppy pour from one glass to the other and back, making both very sticky, a true sign off disrespect, usually only aimed at the passing Yorker that floated through, and never at a "Penny", as many of the local homegrown in system had started to refer to themselves.

"I won't have ya thinking bad about him.."

He set the bottle down with sufficient drama to put an exclamation point to the scene.

"Now lass..." Now jovial and paternal. " take this, and head over to that Trader there and give Domingo a hand."

He pulls one box of the pharma up just enough for her to see it, and stashes back it under bar, and turns around as if nothing was ever said between them.