Having dropped off the item she received with its proper owner, and found her own gift from the gods, Olivia isn't quite ready to go home yet, and the bar is as good a place to sit and think as any.

She has a glass of whiskey in front of her, but most of her attention at the moment is on the token she's holding, dangling from her fingers by its braided cord. She can remember the night Lincoln gave it to her, what he told her it was for, though the memory's more distant than she'd like - and that alone makes the object seem surprisingly appropriate here and now. She smiles faintly and runs her thumb over the round metal of the token, lost in thought.