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Tilly sat by herself watching the people around her. It wasn't often she came in here but the ambiance was nice. As loud as her head, and usually the only place she could listen to music.
Time passed faster than she could keep track of, and suddenly there were only a few people left besides her. And for whatever reason, one of them sat across from her. A man roughly in his mid 50s and way too grumpy looking to be here for a friendly conversation.
"I have a hunch that you have something useful to me." What the fuck was he talking about? Usually people asked her this, but does he know where he is?
"You know you're in a gay bar right?"
"That's.. not what I'm referencing." He was grumpy earlier but now he was just a little lost for words.
"So what do you need a wingman or something?" Tilly tried to not laugh seeing him get more annoyed.
"Just stop talking, I've noticed you have a little bit of a staring problem with other patrons. And I'm hoping you have a hearing problem too if you understand what I'm saying." The man spoke a somewhat slowly, much too serious for where they were.
"Sorry to break it to you but I'm not deaf." She giggled, clearly more amused than he was.
"Good so listen to me, I'm detective Weaver. I know you've heard about me, I know the miscreants you associate with. What I need to know, is what you know about them." He leaned closer to her, whispering, and looking dead into her eyes.
Any entertainment she was getting from annoying him was gone. If she ratted anyone out she was either going to jail alongside them or potentially killed by someone else if Weaver let her go. If she didn't, he may kill her instead.
Weighing her options, she decided her second choice may be better. "I don't want to be some snitch alright? Just leave me alone."
He pulled a few photos out of his jackets pocket, "These are dangerous people, surely you don't want them roaming around with innocents around." Weaver shrugged, now getting a small notepad out. Assuming she'd tell him exactly what he had to know.
"If they're dangerous, why don't you do your job and lock them up yourself?" She picked up her beer for the first time since he'd joined her here. Maybe it wasn't the best choice to drink while he was still here but it was a little too late to care about that. Literally, she's a tired woman sue her.
"Do you like making enemies out of law enforcement?" Weaver gestured to himself, as if she needed a reminder of who he was.
"Better than making enemies out of, what'd you call them? Miscreants?" She giggled and hoped he hadn't decided on locking her up instead. If he knew about her well enough to know who she was around, he knew about the watches she stole.
"Or so you think," he left a card on the table, "talk to me tomorrow, you'll change your mind by then." With that he left the bar. And left her praying she just imagined their conversation.