<strong>Allison "Al" Garvey</strong>, Simon's Bull barmaid and windmill tilter<br/><br/>Al vacillated between going to the downed man’s aid, backing-up the woman who was towering over the attacker, and doing her job.  She glanced inside at Louie and saw him jerk his hands upward in a “what the hell?” gesture.  The woman out on the street looked like she could handle the attacker.  Yet, Al hated to turn away.  She’d run from her mother’s body and she regretted it everyday, half expected the thing that was Gerry to come hunting for her.<br/><br/>Louie’s beady eyes on her made her dodge back inside.  She trotted across the worn floor, her Chucks giving her good traction through spilled drinks and other liquids.<br/><br/>Al glared at Louie before picking up the packed tray and taking it to the table.<br/><br/>“Here you go, Miss,” Al said, moving up alongside Diane.  She set the limes and salt on the table, placed two shot glasses and quickly filled them.<br/><br/>“Your change, sir,” she added slipping the money next to Leof and then taking the remaining glasses and the bottle back to the bar.  She cast another dark look at Louie and headed out into the rain.<br/><br/>“Hey, do you need the cops?  Maybe the paramedics?” Al called, trotting to the women, watching the man moving feebly out of the corner of her eyes.<br/>