Granted with the mixture of booze and large crowds, there's granted to be less eyes on her, but the downside was the noise. She brought enough of that on her own.

Look at that man, that man's doing something.

That man, that man!

Won't you just look?

Anyone eyeing her could've sworn she blinked seventy times within a span of a second. Her hand nursed her shoulder as her eyes scan behind her. She turns back and mutters under a laugh, "There's about a million and a mile of men here."

No, no, no! That man! That man!

That man, that man, that man, that man!

Behind you, behind you!

Bergamaschi, Bergamaschi!

Eulalia's head nearly kissed the ceiling when a dragging across the wood tiles filled her ears. A man behind her. A prescription bottle, nearly full to it's brim rolled towards her. She inspects the label. Bergamaschi. 

Oh, what's he doing here?

Isn't he weird? I just think he's a bit weird.

You should move away. Move away.

Look at his coat.

Steadying his seating on the chair, he noticed Eulalia blinking at him. "Uhm, go ahead. You can just have that."

I wonder why he's so eager.

Don't open that. Don't open that.

Maybe it's fine. He's a friend, right?

Don't open that!

"Anti-psychotics." 

"Yep."

"...Anti-psychotics."

"Yeah, I'm gonna cut right to the fat, it's Janardan and some other people and their other things."

Eulalia stared at him and batted a bit more.

"Janardan...got killed." 

She perked her chin up, furrowed her brow and stared at the wall. 

"And I know you have the same love for him that I have."

Eulalia nodded. "Love. I mean, I care about Janardan. Love."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, will you do it?"

"You'll need to give me a bit more. Information. I wont jump at the neck, that just won't do."

"Fair. Janardan's always short on money, always scrapping, scrapping, and he works theses jobs."

"Job."

"Jobs. So, I guess he started working some job and it had to do with hunting, OK, no big deal, right?"

"...I'd assume so, yes."

"And all of a sudden, five whole days later, he's found dead on this house's doorstep, and not too far away from this house, there's a bag with blood and some pieces of fur in there."

"That's horrible, that's horrible. Absolutely barbaric, I tell you." 

Eulalia's blinking picked up in speed as she repositioned herself in her seat. She had only heard a fourth of everything Bergamaschi had said, but she had the pulse of his boon.

"Yeah! And I'm sure that this isn't some accident or what else they're gonna call it—that's murder. Whoever did this wanted my cousin dead, for whatever reason."

"I'll take it. Absolutely, this murderer needs to be found immediately!"

Bergamaschi's face pulled into a one of shock, then he smiled, then he positioned his arms like a vise to hold her, but then she told him,

"No, of course I was jesting, Bergamaschi. I can barely hear myself." Her voice chewed over the words in the last sentence, top set of teeth digging into her bottom lip, and her hand out, splayed into a fan. "...First of, I'd very much like to know what's in this...goddamn...thing." In between her fingers, white, was the peace offering.

They both allowed the chatter of the bar to wash over them. 

"You know, I wasn't thinking a bar after I sent the letter, but, uh,"

"Bergamaschi, I'm keeping...my cool, I want to know what this bottle...contains."

"Anti-psychotics!"

"Which kind?"

"Thorazine! Why are you freaking out on me all of a sudden?"

"You simply don't have the best fucking prestige, Bergamaschi! That's simply all! I recall... when you last gave me Thorazine for something, and—"

"Uh, sorry for being a bit of a smartass, but that wasn't Thorazine, it was—"

"Thorazine, Hepatitis B, fucking cancer, whichever—I am disinterested in that! You are known for being a fucking cheat, Bergamaschi!"

Even though the festivities of the bar continued, they caught leers from the patrons. Given if they had a bartender at their position, they'd be leering at them, too.

"This isn't about all of that other stuff, though! This is about family!" 

"Did Janardan give you finances for his labor when he came and visited you?"

"Eulalia...! Come the fuck on!"

"Alright, I have interest in seeing Janardan! If Janardan really is dead, I'll need to see his cadaver before I give you any...sense of...whatever childish deduction on justice you have." Shaking, she put her bottle to her chest. "And I'm keeping this, you fucking cheap fuck."

Eulalia's breathing unsteadied and moderated the sulk until the entire bar erupted into scattered, drunken clapping. They took that as their cue to head towards the door. As they paved through the masses with mouths and tongues drenched with wheat and barley, Eulalia covered her ears, bottle pressed to it, and her eyelids gripped shut. 

You're just too generous.