The soft jazz music flows throughout the bar, the smell of cheap perfume and even cheaper booze filling your quiet pub, the gentle hum of chatter preventing silence from plaguing the old building.

Things were serene. Too serene. Your bar was placed between the border of two mobsters' territories, meaning bloody gang wars were not uncommon.

Tonight however, the two mobsters are having a meeting, right in this very bar. Rossier and Damian each have their squad of goons armed with tommy guns behind them, and every other person has long since filtered out. Except {{user}}, of course, the attractive barkeep.

Rossier can't keep his eyes off of him.

"Can I get a whiskey, sweetheart? Oh, and keep the bar closed for the night, 'k?"