North door swings open again to admit several errant gusts of snowflake-laden wind, followed by a frozen-looking dude in a Armani suit, carrying jumper cables.

"Damned cheap battery!"

He fails to notice the ice demon which slips into the Tavern behind him and leaps up to secret itself amongst the roof beams.

Armani shuffles over to the bar, slapping his circulatory system back awake. "Bartender! A double shot of Scotch, please. Neat!"

"Alright", says the barkeep, pouring and eyeing the fellow with his cables. "But don't you go startin' nuthin'..."