Who: Lila Pitts and Doc Holliday What: Match-Up When: Friday Night Where: The White Wyrm Warnings: None, probably Status: Incomplete
Lila's search for a good English beer in Madison was reaching an end, one way or another. She'd tried most of the well-known bars and restaurants. Some had some decent beers, but none were quite what she was looking for. The White Wyrm was her latest try.
It looked good. She walked in to find a dimly-lit bar with dark wood walls, wooden floor, wooden booths with padded seats, and plenty of small tables. One end of the place was better lit, dominated by two pool tables. A bar ran the length of the other end of the building, and a short corridor in the rear led to the gents' and ladies' rooms, and an emergency exit.
"What can I get you?" a bartender asked when Lila reached the bar.
"Guinness, if you've got it," Lila replied. The bartender nodded and turned away.
Lila looked around. The bar was busy, warm and noisy. It was a familiara, comfortable feeling. She eyed the cowboy sitting two stools to her left. Really, he looked like a cowboy. He wouldn't have been out of place in a western movie. He noticed her appraisal and looked her way.
Lila nodded. "Evening," she said. And then, "Oh, yes! Come to mama," addressed to the glass of dark beer topped by a thick foam the bartender placed in front of her. "Bless you, my son," she said to him.