Renton sat in his pub staring at the television screen fixed on the wall across the room. The room was almost completely silent, most of the customers were regulars and even if they weren't they were still from the same place as the rest. Renton's bar was renowned for being one of the only Scottish bars in New York. Anyone could come in, it's just if you weren't at least British the welcome probably wouldn't be as warm as it would if you actually watched football.

Right now the entire bar was fixated on the match on television right now. Rangers vs Celtic. The two rivals had been butting heads for years and this time was no different. Renton had a $300 bet on Rangers winning, and if he was distracted from the final moments he wouldn't be happy. Right now the match was tied and the ball kept getting ever closer to Ranger's goals. Renton's head snapped to the direction of a rather loud American eating a packet of crisps. Just in time to distract Renton from the final goal, in which Celtic won. Renton felt the rage well up inside him, his workers and regulars had learned that it was better to just let his anger set its course rather than try to stop him. One of the veteran drug dealers got up with Renton though, to stop him from doing too much damage.

Renton made his way across the room, grabbing a pool cue on his way to the podgy man. He swung it ferociously against the man's midsection, snapping it in half when it made contact. He threw the handle still in his hand to the floor before grabbing the man and throwing him to the ground. The entire pub watched him as he began to kick the everloving shit out of the man who had merely distracted him from a lost bet. He reached into his jacket pocket to reveal a small jackknife. He flipped it from its handle before attempting to stab the man right in his fat face. His arm was stopped though by the veteran dealer who then tore the knife from Renton's hand. 

Renton realized how much the situation had escalated, and what the repercussions could be if he actually did stab the fucker. He gave the man one last kick before making his way outside. When he got outside he lit a cigarette and began to smoke. Soon enough, a few of Renton's loyal workers dragged the man outside and onto the street across. Renton grinned as his men poured liquor onto the unconscious man, no one would believe a drunk over a 'respectable' bar owner. Renton finally flicked his cigarette onto the street in front before returning to his pub. He picked up his mug of whiskey and took a swig before slamming the glass back down onto the table and spinning to face one of his new recruits who had just finished his first drug run. The recruit hastily made his way to Renton before handing him the money and expecting payment. Renton grinned, he carefully counted his money in front of the recruit before pulling a $5 bill from the pack and handing it to him. The recruit stared at the bill before speaking.
"B-but Geoff told me he gets p-paid at least $100 a run" Renton laughed to himself a small bit before replying.
"Aye, but Geoff's been working for more than a day and doesnae have a stutter that makes me want to punch him in the jaw" The recruit stared for a minute as if expecting it was some cruel joke. Renton denied his suspicions by saying
"Well? Fuck off and come back tomorrow without the stutter if you want more" The recruit hastily made his way out of the pub which was now back to it's usual loud and cheerful manner.