Just then the old bartender was at the place where Morag was standing. "Feet. Off. My. Bar." He said through clenched teeth as he hit his towel at Morag's feet.
Morag, however, looked confused as to why he could even be angry. "But she's pretty." She argued in a small voice that seemed to make him angrier.
With that though, she was met with a loud, "OUT, the both of ya!"
Morag looked down and suddenly it seemed very far up. "I don't think I can. I need your hand Sam!" She said in drunken dramaticness.