"Turkish coffee. Best stuff for the really long nights."
Aidan nodded agreement. "Lovely stuff for the bad nights, although I prefer some of the Bedouin spice mixes."
Eliot pushed his hair back, untangled a couple strands from the cuts clotting on his knuckles, and took another pull of his beer. "Yeah, fresh roasted beans, just-ground cardamom..."
"Some clove, a little cinnamon..." Aidan sipped her whiskey, sighed happily. "Oh, the Uigeadail. Joseph is happy with us."
"I got no clue what this is." Eliot stomped down near an idiot's head. "Hey! No spilling the good whisky. Dumbass. Already spilled your own drink.... Great dark beer, though."
"I think Joseph knows every good microbrewery that will ship to him. Ask him when he's done?" Aidan tilted her head. "And I hear sirens."
"He always pay his bouncers like this?"
"Well, really, it depends on how many it takes. And who it is. The Fort Lewis Marines won't let him pay more than a beer apiece, usually. But then, Joe laughs and says giving that letting them help evict idiots is a public service. It annoys the idiots and uses up Marine energy."
Joe stumped over, glaring impartially at the dozen or so morons on his bar floor. "I don't want to know what you morons thought you were doing. You can just explain it to the cops."
Eliot finished his drink and put it down. "Might be time for me to go."
Joe grinned at him. "We didn't see a thing. Just some good Samaritan."
Aidan handed over a business card, very amused. "Feel free to call sometime if you want to come borrow my kitchen."
"Love to. I still want to hear about that nerve block you used." Eliot went through the back door, whistling, and plotting a grocery run. If the cops didn't take forever, the lady might be free to make dinner with.