"May I buy a beautiful woman a drink?" The man was in his fifties, at a guess; grey hair in a short back and sides, comb moustache. Ex military or prison service by the look of it.
Ada had to check the mirror over the bar to make sure she had her glamour running. Yes, she still looked the part of a glamorous granny. "Me?" She smiled. "Why, flattery will get you everywhere."
"Ooh! That's good to hear." He sat, the whisky in his glass casting motes of amber light "You are single?"
Ada pushed her empty glass forward. "Technically..."