"Whiskey coming right up. 12 caps please," the Bill-tender said as he reached under the counter for a room-temperature bottle of whiskey, and a concerningly cloudy glass.
A broken nose and a bruised body were a common sight for the regulars of the downtrodden bar, but a young woman striding through the bar floor coolly with no concern of the blood pouring from her gashed hand and the dangerous environment surrounding her certainly raised a few eyebrows. Some - the less drunk and more perceptive - took notice of the scars on her body and her determined expression and resolved to avoided eye contact and continued with their activities. However, one less perceptive and far more inebriated drunkard saw the dangerous girl as endearing. "Hey," a man walked in front of Lilith's path with a slick expression - or at least the slickest a drunk could pull off. "What brought a pretty lady like you to this two-bit bar, eh? Care for me to buy you a drink?" Behind the man was the bar where Marcy and Ivan were ordering their drinks, but it seemed it would take much more than a plea for the swooning, drunken man to move aside and let Lilith pass to reconvene with her team.