It was well into the early hours of the morning and the last call at the Muirsheen Durkin had been given long ago. Though the bar was dark and silent two shadowy figures crept through the doors. The larger figure carried a full sack on its back while the smaller tiptoed quietly in front, being careful to dodge any obstacles that lay in their path. The figures made their way down the staircase without a sound and approached the bar counter with care.
Instead of exchanging words the figures nodded at one another and split. The larger one to the left side of the counter, the smaller directly opposite. The small figure leapt onto the counter with the ease of a cat and began wiping the inside of every hanging glass with a damp rag. Meanwhile, the large figure entered behind the bar, tipped the sack upside down and disbursed the contents first on the floor, then around the countertops themselves.
Once their tasks were complete the figures made their way to the staircase and quietly ascended. Before they exited through the door the smaller figure tied the damp rag around the door handle in a neat little bow.
After walking a safe distance into their own holdings in Port Babbage the smaller figure coughed, reaching up to wipe her eyes. The large figure threw the sack down a nearby alleyway and smelled his hands, “Damn, how long will it take the pickle vinegar smell to wear off?”