The bartender on duty was an older, bald, scarred, ex-armed forces guy that had a secret soft side that only Jo knew about. His name was Jimmy, and he knew how to make just about any kind of drink in existence. Jo had hired him after he'd come in one night and had practically demanded a job and tried to get it through intimidation. Jo hadn't even blinked at his brash exterior. Instead she had sat him down in the office, gotten him to open up, and hired him after about an hour's worth of story swapping during which Jimmy had actually broken down and cried. Twice. Since that night, he'd pretty much sworn his loyalty to the tiny blond Hunter, and while he knew that she had a lot of secrets in her own past, he didn't ask questions. When the woman sat down at the bar, his bright blue gaze studied her before he turned and picked up a glass. It was perfectly clean, of course, because Jo insisted on the place being kept in pristine shape, and a moment later it was set down in front of her filled with the golden house beer.
"Starting a tab? If not, it's three fifty." He told her gruffly.
From the door leading to the back room, Jo stepped out while on a cordless phone, finishing off an order. "Right. Four cases. Yeah, there'll be someone here Sunday for the unloading. Mmhmm. 'Kay. Thanks, Jack. Yeah, I'll tell her. Say hi to Donna for me. Later." Hitting the end button, her dark eyes scanned the bar room absently, looking over the patrons. It was quiet, but it was early yet so she wasn't worried. She shot Jimmy a quick smile as she reached into the mini-fridge under the counter and pulled out a bottled water, then let her eyes drift to the woman who sat with the fresh beer in front of her. She wasn't familiar, but random people did come into the bar sometimes.
"Welcome to the Roadhouse. Hope Jimmy here's taking good care of you."