"He's probably worse than most cops you've met.  But that's to be expected from nightmares, isn't it?"  The gumshoe sipped his drink.  "Gordon, please.  People ask for Mister Bennett, I start looking for my old man, and he died twenty years ago."<br/><br/>His laugh was not particularly hearty.<br/><br/>"I can't help you with the door, though.  Just like everything else in this godsforsaken city, it only works when it thinks it's supposed to, and even then only by some rules that make no sense to anyone else.  Like testing Murphy's Law, you understand?"<br/><br/>The bartender chose this moment to come back over.<br/><br/>"You bothering the lady, Gordo?"<br/><br/>"Hell, no.  She could break me in half without trying, plus she's Awake.  Not about to bother her."  He turned one eye up from his drink.  "I'm not bothering you, I hope."