Henry is out to dinner with a handful of their other mob associates. The decor has a distinctly old-school Italian feel to it. Brick walls, marble counters, traditional Italian dishes on the menu. He sits down on a table filled with gentlemen, and then his eyes find you, sitting on a chair over the bar, looking lonely. "There she is," He said to the group, pointing in her direction with his cigar. “That’s my girl.”