Leaning on the bar, Irene watches the newcomer.  What does she think?  Obviously a woman of the world, and far more worldly than Irene, she finds herself curious about the girl.  She noticed the look of distaste that passed over the girl's face as she watched the card-players.<br/><br/>"Well, I've got gin," she said, dimpling at Cameron as she selected the bottle and pulled the cork from the top.  "And, I've tasted worse," she said, pouring for both of them.<br/><br/>Irene drank her shot back and poured another.  "That, there," she said, pointing to the man who put off "keep-the-fuck-away" vibes like the desert sent up heat shimmers, "he's the marshal.  A particular friend of Guinevara," she said with another nod to the Madame down the bar.<br/><br/>When Guinevara was free, Irene would meet her eyes and gesture to the new girl.<br/><br/>"Some of the men just come for company and drink, a bit of cards and they're happy.  Others have other needs," she said, with a quirk of her eyebrows.