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         That was easier to persuade than he’d thought. Sometimes people talked and he’d come across one person or another who somehow knew he’d been where he wasn’t supposed to be. Another few months he wouldn’t have to worry—not that he wanted to be approached by strangers.

               ”…Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.”

              A light groan would be made as he heard the strangers               comment, it was something he'd heard way too often.               He knew he had a problem of course, but addiction was               a fickle thing -- and he had much more important things               to take care of than that.

                  “Tch. I’m not twenty-one.” 

      Fake I.D. card (good fake I.D. card—he had money). And sometimes the bartender doesn’t happen to care. Not that he goes to bars to get drunk. It had been a bad night and he does not want to think about it. 

              ' Musta' been some other guy then. '

                          He couldda' swore though----- 

                  ' Either that or I was just drunk... '

           ”…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t at any bar last night.”

    He’s lying. He’s lying through his teeth.            

             ' Really? Couldda' swore I saw you there... '