Uh... Walken could be Mac. They could maybe let Mac talk a bit more but still be the mysterious old sometimes insightful bartender.
The massive gruff left furrows in the ceiling as it walked out. I tried to get my breathing started again, though my heart just wouldn't stop. Murphy took a couple of tries to get her gun reholstered.
Mac brought over three bottles, and kept one for himself. He pulled the top off, and raised the bottle. "Bravely done." Mac took a slug and furrowed his brow.
"But you could have used more cowbell."
The chair splintered over Morgan's head, and he just dropped. The storm was brewing, and I was running out of time. Mac gave me a look. "Council's gonna be pissed," he said.
"Mac, I need to borrow your car." Mac nodded, reached into his apron and pulled out ... a bottle of beer.
"Mac?"
"This bottle of beer was brewed by the first company in America to brew beer. Your mother and I ran from the wardens for five years, during which time she kept the beer hidden. After she passed on, I hid this cold, uncomfortable hunk of glass up my ass for two years. And now, little man, I give this bottle to you. "
The damnedest thing was the bottle actually started the car....