Excuse me, I know I look weird, but I'm going to look around, as I approach the bar. It's been a moment or three since I crossed the threshold, and the faces blinking away the sunlight locked away behind the door.

"Close that farking thing! You're letting all the cool air out!" says some grumpy old git in the corner, nursing a glass of whiskey, his elbows pushing into the oak table top. He lifts his glass, and pours the contents in his mouth, his throat pulsating as he swallows. Then, he smiles "Good to see you, 'Gin!" Then, he smiles as he fades in the shadowed darkness, the condensation slides down the chilled glass, encircling the base. But he's gone.

"You, too, old friend. You too." I whisper, as the barman asks me what I want. "Oh I'll take whatever beer you have that tastes like rotten socks that have been sprayed by a skunk, and some Tears."

The barman smiles and pours my IPA, and a shot of Writer's Tears. He sets them on the rubber mat in front of us, and I give him my card. Yeah keep it open, please. I kinda want to get piss drunk tonight.

I take my drinks to a quiet table, out of the way, to people watch and work.