"I can't tell you about my last job," she said.
He leaned back, reached for his drink, took a sip and smiled. "Now, you have me intrigued. Was it illegal or governmental, I wonder."
She shook her head. "I can't say. Let's move on."
He took another sip. "What do you do now?"
"I run this place."
He nodded, looking around the bar. "So do you manage the place? Or do you own it."
She smiled, held a finger up and walked down the other end of the bar to serve a small man, who was wearing a hat almost as big as he was.
"I own it," she said, after pouring the small-big-hatted-man his beer.
"Ah..." he said. "Proceeds from the secret job?"
She shook her head. "Na," she said. "From my divorce."
...
