Mary Anne checks to be sure her shirt covers her own gun, then shifts the vodka bottles so she can open the front door. She steps through into a crowded club, the bass line pounding loud enough to make any lyrics unintelligible. A bouncer stops her just inside, having to yell into her ear to be heard. She yells back and hands him one of the bottles of vodka. The man checks the label, eyes widening, then heads into the club.

Mary Anne motions for Ramon to follow her; the bouncer leads them to a semi-private booth in the back. The music back here isn't so much softer as just low enough to carry on a conversation without screaming.

"So, what do you think?"