"And you're saying my money isn't good enough?" a deep voice reverberated through out the establishment, the amused tone of the question obvious. Jade Curtiss stood at the other end of the bar, his posture militant, the lamplight reflected off his glasses. The bartender was quite distinctly uncomfortable at this question, if his expression was anything to go by.

"Look, I don't want trouble, it's just the Mayor --"
" -- decreed that anyone not fitting his absurd dress code would be denied service. As you can see, hardly an inch of scandalous flesh is shown in my outfit. Unless you want me to cover my face now as well?"

Some of the other patrons in the bar were shifting uncomfortably, attempting to ignore the conflict.