Single girls out at a club like this have to stick together. At least, that's what Abigail figures as she approaches. Besides, she needs another drink. Her martini glass is completely empty.

"Cosmo, please," she says, leaning against the bar. "Widdowson card." And she retrieves her wallet from her small clutch and shows it to confirm her identity. As the bartender begins making her drink, she smiles at the other woman. "What're you drinking? I'll order the same again if you want."