Jacob's henchmen took the van back to an old warehouse which he owned.  Meanwhile, Jacob drove back to town still not happy about the guns, it was just another thing to add to his of things to do.  He'd have to have a talk with this Wes about this later.<br/><br/>For now though, it was a mild distraction albeit an annoying one.  Jacob sighed pushing the thoughts out of his head for now as he parked his black BMW E92 M3 about a block away from the bar.  Walking the rest of the way, he only took time to glance at his watch to see that he was running about five minutes behind schedule.<br/><br/>"Damn..." he muttered under his breath as he walked into the bar; he hated being late.  He had even been known to have moods where people just delivering messages for him would wind up dead if they were late.  And yet here he was walking into this place five minutes late and dressed like some rich executive, minus the tie; black button down shirt, red silken suit, and black wing tipped shoes.  Perhaps the only "reassuring" thing in Jacob's mind was that his trusted, well cared for customized .45 automatics from Infinity Firearms still rested in their holsters at the small of his back.<br/><br/>As he approached the bartender, Jacob took a quick glance around surveying the gathered crowd.  He hadn't been told who had been hired for this job, he was only given a place to meet at and was informed that they had been informed about him.  "Aberlour." Jacob says calmly to the bartender as he pulls a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.  Taking the drink in hand, Jacob merely nods to the bartender and turns to again casually survey the crowd.