WHERE: Knock Five Times WHO: open!
“There is always fucking something.” Her words are quick, snapped and terse as she retrieves a larger shard of glass from the floor. It had been dropped when the gunshot went off, a shatter after a bang, and though someone has begun to sweep it already, the piece she holds had hidden itself under a barstool.
The bar had very quickly become crowded right afterwards, and though that’s never something to turn your nose up at, it’s taking effort to keep people calm. Police crawling the streets does not mix particularly well with illegal speakeasy. Cecilia isn’t quite worried, rather feels an intense annoyance that would be more pronounced if she wasn’t sure that whatever had happened was probably necessary.
Behind the bar in a moment, she spins to dispose of the glass safely in the trash. As part of the same movement, one fluid motion, she pulls a bobby pin from seemingly nowhere to pin back a strand fallen from her bun. Despite her conversation partner having quite clearly seen her complaint, she replaces it with the mask of hostess all the same. “Anything I can get you?”
