"Not looking to make more of an expense on Tank," Hagar answered thinly. "You just sit your ass down and look pretty." It's what you're best at, anyway. The brawling, Hagar could've done without. She saw no need to antagonize clients and making trouble for Lot seemed like the sort of thing the man himself ought to have discouraged.
Looking at the pair on the other side of the counter now, Hagar couldn't help fear that Lot's judgment might've been impaired on this one. No wonder he seemed to act like Mustang could do no wrong if he was smitten.
All the many reasons why that was a terrible idea flashed through Hagar's mind, but in the end she said nothing, merely refilled Mustang's glass. The girl could drink, and there was just a flicker of a chance that liquor might keep her sweet until she went on to greener pastures. Pissing off the Chets was bad enough; losing clients because Mustang did her talking with her fists -- or as the case may be, her sharp, sharp heels -- would be even worse.
"You two gon' be around tonight or do I have to make nice with Niro now?" The lieutenant was a bigger thug than Mouse and not Hagar's favorite person to deal with. Then again, if Lot and Mustang were planning on spending the night in the privacy of a bedroom, it would be good to have some warning.