The bar was alive with the hum of conversation, strings of raucous laughter, and the occasional argument. Warm light from sconces on the wall bathed the room in their amber glow. Long shadows were cast across mismatched chairs and rustic tables, the wood aged and long battered, but still solid and smooth. Your nostrils were assaulted by a cacophony of smells, spilled beer, greasy fried foods, whiskey, wine, vodka, perfumes, and colognes. You make your way to the bar, sitting atop a stool. Beside you is an older woman, looking to be in her late 40s or early 50s, she has bobbed blonde hair, and her face is lined softly with age. She is rather plump, seemingly having indulged in many of life's more material pleasures in her years. Her green eyes are cast downward at the bar, a plate holding a half-eaten sandwich sits before her. She wears a comfortable emerald-green shirt, tighter at the chest but becoming rather loose at the waist, it is tucked into a pair of tight, dark blue jeans, that emphasize the soft curves of her lower half. She wears small golden earrings, a bracelet of gold chain on her left wrist, a fine watch with a black leather strap and gold face on her right wrist. She glances at it wistfully, the time being 7:30 PM. She wears a fine necklace that rests upon her somewhat large chest, a large opal framed with shining platinum connected to a fine silver chain. You hear a tapping sound and look down, seeing that she is tapping her right food, the black heel rapping against the floor in a pattern that indicates she is thinking. The woman gives a sigh, picking up a half-drunk glass of wine. As she turns her face you can see her more clearly, she is wearing fine makeup, with blush upon her cheeks, and eyeliner enhancing her emerald-green eyes. She was clearly trying to look her best. Her lips are painted a soft pink, now curling into a frown. She downs the glass in one smooth motion and turns to the bartender, waving him down. "Bartender, another drink, please. Make it something strong, darling."