[center] [u] [b]Conor's apartment[/b] – The day after the night Kelly brought up the idea of reviving the Irish mob.[/center] [/u]

Conor woke up at his apartment to the ringing sound of his old alarm clock. It was a real bell that was ringing not the electronic sample sound which Conor detested. He silenced the alarm while trying to recall the events of last night. They were a total blur. Conor remembered only hazily being at Fiddler's green; He remembered sitting by the bar listening to Kelly tell a story about Tom Pendergast and the old days of the Irish mob in Kansas City. All the rest was a gone. It was a bit rare for him not to remember a whole night yet it did happen from time to time. [i]I hope no one's dead because of me.[/i] thought Conor sarcastically. After finishing his morning ablutions, he got dressed and went down to open the pet store which was just below his apartment. 

It was like any other day at the store with a couple of the usual archetypes of customers. A chubby boy came and made a remark on Collin, Conor's pet hamster. Conor gave him an earful of his views on the spoiled kids nowadays, wasting their lives eating hamburgers. After the boy left a couple came looking for a dog. The couple expressed their dissatisfaction with the dogs he had to offer so Conor ranted his vitriol onto them on their way out. 

It was about half past ten when a man entered the store wearing a black Tuxedo suit, or maybe it was not a real Tuxedo – Conor could not care less. The man had greasy black hair and olive skin. He looked in his thirties. 

"Morning" Conor forced himself to be polite. He was leaning backwards in his chair, his legs crossed on the desk in front of him - not the most welcoming posture.

The man ignored Conor's pleasantry and went around the store examining the animals. The man's reaction made Conor a bit tense so he took a cigarrete from the pack that lay on his desk and lighted it. After a few moments, the man arrived at Conor's desk. He took a cigarrete out of the same pack and put it in his mouth. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he leaned forward hinting Conor to light it. After a moment of hesitation, Conor contained his exasperation and decided not to blow things out of proportion just yet. He took his legs off the table and lighted the man's cigarette. The man straightened his posture and after puffing the cigarette a few times, he took it out of his mouth.

"That's a nice place you have here" 

A touch of an Italian accent hardened Conor's suspicions. By the looks of it, the man was working for the Ciprianos. 

"You like it?"

"What's not to like?-" The man was talking with his hands as well as his face.

[i]That's some profoundly bad acting skills[/i], thought Conor.

"-It's a shame though - such a nice store in such a troubled neighborhood, who knows what could happen to it?"

It was obvious where the man was going with this. Conor had his suspicion since the man came through the door yet only now did he make his mind about his course of action.

"Just a jiffy, le'me ge'me sho'gen" Conor started looking for his gun underneath the desk.

"Come again?" Conor's accent was too strong for the man to interpret his words.

"Has to be here somewhere..." The shotgun was not underneath Conor's desk so he turned around and crouched to look for it in the cabinet behind.

"What's here?" 

"Ah... here" Conor took the loaded shotgun out of the cabinet, got up and pointed the gun at the man's head. The man was stunned; Conor's actions were too relaxed for him to think something drastic like this was about to happen. He lifted his hands in the air. 

"Ohhh, let's not get carried away here" 

"Carried away? You want carried away?! How 'bout you get the fahk outa'here and tell your fahkin' boss I ain't paying no protection money to nobody, get it? I sell pets not fahkin' jewels, dick-brain!"

Conor's smartphone, the one he got as a present for his 45th birthday, rang loudly grabbing the attention of the man in the suit. While holding the gun with the trigger hand Conor pulled the phone out of his pocket and onto the desk. After sliding to answer the call on loudspeaker he returned to grip the gun with both hands still aiming at the head of the man in the suit. It was Ashling's picture showing on the phone's screen.

"Morning Ashling, I'm a bit busy now, is it urgent?"