The bar vibrated with the staccato grind of the jukebox. Branson Brickfords 'My enemy's evacuation' was now on it's 3rd spin, but the patrons weren't here for the music. They were here for cheap-ass booze and a quick escape from the shady world of hustlers, gangs and private dicks outside that door.
Wing was used to this bar. He liked a fight but he didn't make trouble cos the prospect of findin' somewhere new... was 'unconsciounable'. So he kept to himself, drinking his Highballs and scraping at the initials carved into the bar top.
But then he saw her... gorgeous and vulnerable. So, so vulnerable, and definitely in need of assistance...
Sometimes a guy has to help a lady out.
Sometimes a gal finds herself in a spot of trouble. Right now trouble was a half-ton of fresh beef leaning its rump on yonder bar stool. She could already see where tonight was headed.
...and only a little premature violence will get the big palooka to peace-off!