You keep drinking with your new friends. Everyones put on some clothes, although most of the bar patrons are now shirtless. The Barkeeper serves you all perfectly and ensures no one's mug is empty. As he walks over to give you a refill, you hear the door slam open. A rather pudgy cop enters the room. He appears to be around 50 years old, his uniform old and stained, yet adorned with medals. Clearly, a respected veteran who has now let himself go. He's bald, with black stubble. The hair has edges that have turned grey. The cop enters the room and looks to the barkeeper "I didn't know there was an Irish culture bar here, I thought this was Charlie's pub." The barkeep looks to the cop with a grin "Charlie sold this place to me, he's working under me now. Wanted to get some Irish culture in this city." You and the rest of the men at the table laugh as you know the barkeep means something else when he says 'he's working under me'.
The cop looks around the room suspiciously, he eyes you and your friends. "There's been a lot of noise complaints about pubs all across town, some people from the store next door called the station. I was sent to come and check this pub out." The barkeep moves to a table and plants his hand on a man's shoulder. "I think you'll find that this is the owner of the next door store, he came over to check out the fuss and ended up having no complaints." The man he refers to nods "Course I did, bloody best grog across all town. One sip and you're in for five mugs. Should try one coppar. Don't want to call you in for nothin'." The cop looks at the drink and shakes his head. "It's 1 pm and you're expecting me to drink? Have you got no shame? You're all bloody drunk and its barely in the afternoon." Everyone in the bar gets cocky grins, it's now a contest to see who can convince this cop to have a cold one.