"Keep the fawkin' drinks comin' 'tenda!"

Is what the one eyed sinner was shouting as she smacked her fist down on the bar that her and several other sinners were at. She wasn't drunk, not enough atleast, but she was sure buzzed enough to feel all happy and energetic more than she would usually. She had already taken two or three shots, her fourth one being slid to her via the incredibly busy and grouchy bartender.