“How goes the watch?”
Pucket ‘Pucksy’ Alderberry most of the time had a hearty smile to accompany his plump body and protruding leather apron, usually stained with ale, wine and gods knew what. However, his smile was now turned downwards into a frown. His knee-high leather boots clomped steadily on the surface, as if he was waiting for an opportunity to pounce. As he spoke, a Red Lock stepped out of the darkness of the wine cellar. His red hood was a faint maroon in the filtered moonlight emitting from the single small window. 
“Nothing so far, yet, though I’ve seen a soul or two in the shadows skulking about.”
“Do [i]not[/i] let [i]anyone[/i] through again.” Pucksy’s features twisted into a scowl. “I pay [i]good[/i] money for these barrels of ale. And I paid you more for this job than the likes of you get from a burglary spree in a week.”
“It’s been two weeks and I haven’t received it yet.” The Lock had a whiny tinge to his tone, like a child who didn’t get the toy he wanted.
“You’ll get it [i]after[/i] the culprit’s caught.” The landlord’s tone was surprisingly menacing, akin to that of a grizzled soldier’s. The Red Lock reeled back for a while, then nodded and stepped back into the darkness once again.

[i]”Hey, ho, away we go
Ta old Jack Ronald’s fishin’ boat
And then he’ll take us to seas untold
For twenty silver and a goat - HEY!”[/i]

Pucksy allowed his features to lapse back into his familiar smile as he ascended the steps from the wine cellar. With a quick motion to the barkeep, he had a full flagon at the ready and stepped over to the nearest table. “Cheerio to yer good health, y’all!”

“LONG LIVE PUCKSY ALDERBERRY AN’ HIS ALE!”

“Bloody good ale at that!”
The comforting clink of flagon against flagon relaxed Pucksy’s senses as his body felt the alcohol rushing into his system. “Hahaha! Good evenin’!”

With that, he turned to the newcomers who had stepped into his establishment. He greeted them with his genuine bright smile and gestured to several comfortable tables a distance away from the drunken revelry. “Come one, come all to the Jolly Hippogriff! Pucksy’s my name, and ale’s my game!”
At the same time, across the room, Mrs Alderberry was patiently serving a band of intoxicated burly men. Suddenly, one of them snatched the landlady’s arm. “Come an’ have a good time with me, m’princess.” 
His breath was pure ale. 
Suddenly, Mrs Alderberry snatched her hand away from him and gave him a good slap across his features, earning a chorus of tipsy laughter. “No one ain’t goin’ ta mess with Bertha Alderberry with a pickup line like that!”

“Yeah, Don. Ya ain’t gonna get them lovely ladies like that!”
“Ah second the moh-shun!”

“Y’all want a little meetin’ with my fist?” The burly man suddenly stood up and ripped a chair leg off his stool. “Ah challenge yah, ah do.”

Pucksy grimaced as the other end of the room erupted into a drunken brawl, but was comforted as his wife waded her way through the chaos, relatively unharmed. Anyway, at this time of night most people were so drunk that they could barely stand up, let alone hit their comrades. A few patrons were betting on the combatants.

“Ten silver pieces says Don’s be smashin’ Jack!”

“You’re on!”
Pucksy turned to the newcomers and again pointed to the tables in the distance. “There, we have comfy seats and nice wine - for a price, of course. There are some beds for the weary traveler's back if you wish to stay the night - but keep it clean and bring the chamber pots down to the backyard for compost. The entertainment’s good, but do keep a safe distance away. Good evening!”