#* jackie

     “Okay, it’s my round, I’ve decided.” While she’s standing on her toes to flag down the barman, she gives him a sidelong squint, lips pinching up at one corner. “Lemme guess, you’re a whiskey man. Don’t ask how I know, I can just tell these things.” If whiskey was a man it would look like this guy.

     “Well, this is sufficiently morose.” She doesn’t sound all that upset by it, and in fact looks quite pleased with herself, legs swinging like she’s sitting on a bench at a county fair and deciding which place to visit first with her fistful of tokens. “And you come here every day of your own free will, is that right?”