"Okay, that's enough, Zig. Stop bothering her, [i]please[/i]" John said sharply. It was a threatening sort of [i]please[/i], the sort you do not want to argue with, the sort that tells you he'll drag you out, screaming, if he has to, at the first sign of trouble. And all the regulars know he has the means to do it. 

"And, Miss Cane." He turned to the bounty hunter, who seemed to be getting a bit too tipsy a bit too fast. Still, he couldn't help dangling the bottle in front of her. "I don't think another one of this is wise, do you think? Well, at least not now? But we do have, hmm," he took a second to check the panel under the bar. "'American' fries. And chilli dogs. I can have the boys whip them out quickly." 

And now the girl. Sandra. No, she didn't look like a Sandra, but he wasn't going to question his customers. If she says her name is Sandra, and if she looks like a nervous, scared teenager, then by all means, she is a girl named Sandra who's a nervous, scared teenager. He smiled at her, in a way that he hoped would look comforting. "Sorry about these two. They're a bit on the rowdier side, apparently. Where are you from, Sandra?"