[quote=Sturmgewehr]
"Sheehan?" Answered Max surprised. After hearing his question Max felt a little surprised at his sudden interest on what happened to his dealer last night. "Does it even matter what happened to him? What's important is that I got him out of there before something bad happened. Trust me, I had no idea what he was doing there. All dealers, not just those working for me, know very well that you never sell drugs in public places and in the eyes of everyone. But if you really wanna know I guess I can trust you enough to tell you." Said Max as he paused for a few seconds. "Let's just say I sent him on a permanent vacation. And the only place he's ever gonna sell drugs in anymore is hell. I hope Satan likes meth." Finished Max as he waited for Sheehan's reply.
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"Okay, first off, thank you very much for taking care of that guy. I deeply appreciate it, I don't like that kind of thing going on in the bar." Sheehan sighed. "Guess that means I owe you one, Max. So to make it even, here's a little tip for you. A guy came up from Branson asking about him. He said his name was Gabi Cohen. An Israeli. He was rolling heavy, too- had a couple of one-percenters with him. Wearing kuttes from an outfit called Manhunter Motorcycle Club."

Sheehan thought for a second. "Look, Max, I know a guy like you doesn't need my advice, but here's my theory. Maybe your boy picked up something on the side and wanted to see how it would sell. Maybe from this guy Cohen, dollars for donuts he's mobbed up. And then maybe he came here to try and sell it, because we have a bit of a reputation for being fast and loose up here at Fiddler's Green." Sheehan was nervous, his hands shaking. Maybe a drink would calm him down a little. Good thing he happened to be at a bar. He groped down in the well, came up with a bottle of cheap gin. It'd do. "Just conjecture, but it makes sense. At any rate, watch your ass, okay? Just in case. I'll see what I can find out about Cohen and the bikers and get back to you." Sheehan downed a warm shot of gin, winced at the piney taste as he realized just what an awful idea he was acting on. "Right, the well's for mixers," he muttered to himself.