Not feeling, not nothing, good intentions

She walked down from the first room on the left, preparing to start the night like many others. She'd get ready to serve drinks to anyone who had shown to have a good time. Thats just what she did. The Raven had been her place for longer than anyone could remember. Yet western expansion was a long time ago. Her long black hair hung in her face as she walked behind the bar, doing a last minute cleaning and would unlock the door for any and all patrons. This was life for Uncle Sam's forgotten contributors. She really didn't mind though. It wasn't her place to rule the government. She just held a safe house for any one else who needed to get away from it all, mortal or not. Be it you needed an escape from your parents due to the stupid rules that you just had enough of or to be yourself in a world that could never really understand you or what you are. This was her home. Home to her children, friends, and those who needed shelter from Big Brother.