Slipping onto an empty barstool, Reg heaved and exhasperated sigh, shaking his head as he leaned over to take hold of a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Pouring himself a generous shot, he downed it in one go, his features pinching in on themselves momentarily as he poured another. “Fuck, it’s quiet around here.” Glancing around at the otherwise empty clubhouse. Sure, several of the guys were still in the back, sleeping off various hangovers (or fucking them off), but the place felt like a ghost town. Downing his second shot, Reg jumped slightly, turning quickly at the sound of footsteps behind him. “Where the fuck’d you come from?” He asked, relaxing his body a bit. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your ass. You outta know better than to sneak up on me like that.”
