Jo had arrived at her graveyard shift that usually ran until at least two am, maybe even three, that was, when the hunters had decided that they had enough booze for one night. However if there was one thing that Jo Harvelle knew about hunters - their booziness knew no bounds. It was often that certain hunters fell from their chairs bringing the table with them and then spending the night there until the bar re-opened in the next morning. That was why the bar had a surplus of blankets. It took one to know one and that was that. It was only a hunter that could ascertain that the person before them was not just some schlub from the streets. Hunters had a peculiar aura about them that made them hunters. They resonated a boldness that was not common in most other people. Hunters... ahh Hunters.. Jo scanned the room drinking in the patrons at the bar table and those hunched over their tables in a deep boozy sleep. She held a dispenser in her hand as she refilled a gentleman's glass. He, like all other hunters, knew how to hold their booze. And so with one great big swig he raised the glass to salute Jo, who stood there and raised waggled her eyebrows before the booze was gone. It was then that two hunters had began yelling at each other. "HEY!" she yelled, "Cut that crap out." The two hunters who held each other's collars with their fists raised immediately resisted. Dropped their hands and one even went as far as to straighten out the other's coat jacket, "Good one bud, sorry about." He turned to Jo and gave a thumbs up, "Won't happen again darling." Jo snarled at him and gave him a thumbs down while saying, "It better not happen in my bar." She shivered despite herself, however, a shiver that was not visible but one of complete dominance. She was not used to this. Christ, I sound like my mother. And where the hell was she, anyways. She always seemed to go on these secretive "supply runs" without disclosing the details. 

It was then Jo's job to hold down the fort. She was so not used to being a leader. She would much rather lock herself in a gun locker and polish her daddy's gun. It was then that she replaced the dispenser and wiped her hands together, snatching the wash cloth tucked between the bottle in the girdle. "If any of you boys need a refill just help yourselves," she said to no one in particular. And where was Dean? Sam? Where were all these people she cared about? They always seemed to go on these visions of grandoise.. she sighed loudly to herself as she entered the backroom and collapsed into the chair. She sat there motionless before pouting and throwing the cloth over to the far side. It landed a corner with a soft thump. She missed those people something awful. Dean's wit that made her laugh with his snarky one liners, Sam's sweet caring kindness, and her mother's overbearing maidenhood. One day, she would be able to go out there and kill something. She was meant to live, and this was not living. This was wasting away and slaving herself picking up the broken and jumbled pieces of lazy ass hunters. She wanted to more. But for now her mother had given her a job to do. Jo turned herself on the wheels and gripping the arm rests she pushed herself to her feet and re-entered the bar. It had seemed that some time had passed more than she would have liked. Most of the tables were now refilled, and the bar table was half of that. At least there was that. Her eyes scanned the room looking for some form of reason to go over and slap a hunter for being a total tool. But.. Bella? Why the hell was she here? And who the hell was she sitting with? Jo made use of what she had and for the moment wanted to remain discreet. She did not want Bella and this strange fellow at her bar knowing that she was in charge. But despite herself she never got what she wanted. Everyone always looked down on her with a look of scorn. She bit her lip before deciding... no, I am not going to hide. Like some weak pathetic ingrate. Therefore, she crossed the threshold to the table where the con artist took occupation. 

As she made her way through the tables some of the hunters turned their heads and nodded at her. And that was all that was usually said between these people. A silent vow that was taken as soon as they entered the bar. As most of the hunters that wandered in here left as family. She tapped a hunter on the back here, shook this one's hand, stopped to have quick small chat with another, but her prize was the fair haired con woman. She had walked in on them during a talk about music and guitars and a life worth living. She passed a table with a hunter sitting by his lonseome. And grabbing a chair by the top she began to drag the chair to Bela's table. She turned the chair around and immediately sat down facing the back of the chair straddling it. She crossed her arms over the top one over the other and simply said, "Hi."