Rido knocks a shot back, letting the heel of his boot collide against the leg of his chair as he swings his leg. It’s one of those nights. When he thinks about her and his apartment feels smaller than it is and he has to get out. And what better place than a bar where he can melt into the music, the lingering cigarette smoke, the alcohol. 

He rests his chin on his hand and waves the bartender over with his other. “Another one.” Rido slides the empty glass forward. “You want one too?” He turns, curious eyes scanning the man beside him and quirking a brow. “Looks like you could use one too. On me.”