She slowly trailed her tongue along the rim of the shot glass, wetting it. She dipped it in the sugar and set it on the bar with a solid slam.

She reached below the bar, expertly handling the bottle and the amber liquid poured quickly, overflowing the rim slightly. The bar, sticky with remnants of the night shimmered in the neon lights that hung behind her.

She slid the shot towards the Femme who would be in her back room soon.

“Whisky Sweet.” She said simply and turned away.