<strong>Carol Neathawk<br/>Gehenna Bar<br/>In a booth with Berenger Zarkhov</strong><br/><br/>She was absolutely on alert as she settled in beside him.  "I do not.  In fact,"  and she rocked her glass very slightly in her hand.  "I drink lightly.  I may have another later, but it will be a while."  She sipped the superb rum, Zarkhov had bought her some very top shelf stuff.  She couldn't see part of the room, that bothered her a lot.  But her companion's men were watching out for them.  that made her fel only a little better.  She watched him cut the lines, roll up a bill with interest propping her head on one hand, elbow on the table, holding her drink in the other.<br/><br/>"So, this is neutral ground, all smiles and politeness, no rough stuff inside.  Usually,  I mean."  She didn't look at him directly for a moment, she was composing her thoughts.<em>Now, what's going on here?  He doesn't believe a word I'm telling him, but he doesn't want me dead.  Yet.  And he's certainly interested in me.</em><br/><br/>One thing she wasn't carrying right now was her badge.  She hadn't quite expected what she had found, had been expected to be searched. thoroughly searched.  If the place got raided, she'd go downtown with the rest of the haul, sort it out later.