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Willhoff

"Governor."

Willhoff towered over the man in the wheelchair, ushering him back into the building. "Excellent speech. I do worry about this singer though."

Willhoff walked alongside the man's chair, his white shoes tapping against the marble floor, "I've never been one for music but if her condition is that bad shouldn't it be a burden to have her perform tonight?"


Grace

...Late the previous night

"Do you see me here?" Stewart Filmont's grimy hands made an 'eye to eye' motion, "I'm not givin your drunk ass another drink! **** what your friends say!"

"Look here fillmo" The man slurred, "I'm a f*ckin adult aight? I can handle, myself." He slapped a hand onto Filmont's wrist.

"You let go of me right now smith or I'm booting you out forever, so you can get f*ckin shot again."

"Now hold up there." The man slurred, and tightened his grip, "Look I don't want no trouble, all I want is a drink." He reached towards his side-holster.

Filmont's eyes raked the room. He found the person he needed to find. They made eye contact for a quick moment and he nodded.

"Filmo! Give me my god damn drink or I swear I'm blowin yer..." His sentence was cut short by a boot connecting with his side, smashing a rib, "What the..." He swung a bottle at his assailant but his wrist has grabbed and twisted. He was on the ground before he could register it. He barely felt a hand grab his shirt collar and drag him out the door. The patrons looked at the unusual scene and just shook their heads and frowned accordingly.

"Don't come back!" Grace said, throwing the drunk man into the small street. She brushed herself off and went back to the bar.

"Thanks bouncer, I haven't had a gun pulled on me before, well that's a lie. I haven't had a gun pulled on me in this here bar before. We live in some frightening times. Thanks, your next drink's on me."

"Just doing my job." She said nonchalantly, "I'll remember the free drink though."