Outside, the brisk autumn air blew the smoke of his cigarette behind him as Moe strolled slowly down the road, looking around himself for somewhere to be. As far as he could tell, Clear Springs and the people comprising it seemed to be fairly ordinary; although he had heard of some crime issues and other goings-on, Moe hadn't personally been affected by any such occurrence, and he wasn't the type of person to look into that sort of thing anyway.. Nonetheless, Moe liked to watch the people around him as they darted around him and rushed into various shops and restaurants; perhaps he was trying to gain some insight into the character of the people of Clear Springs so he could perhaps fit in more, or maybe he was just eager for a distraction to bring him out of the staleness of his current situation. Whatever the reason was, Moe continued to walk onward, gazing intermittently into the windows of shops that he walked past.

Still though, the bar was the only other place he really knew on this street, and Moe's better judgment told him that he shouldn't go in there. Was there a rule against him going into other establishments during his break? Moe didn't recall such a restriction, though maybe he missed something when he got the job. Was it worth risking that possibility? He didn't have that long, after all, and he couldn't drink lest it threaten his job. Moe watched as a man passing by him pushed open the door of the bar, an ghostly voice resounding quietly from within. No, it wasn't quite a voice; it had an ethereal quality to it not unlike that of a stringed instrument, and yet it wasn't that either. A theremin, that's what it was.

Suddenly the bar became much more appealing to him as a distraction. Perhaps he could go inside and just listen to whatever music was playing for the remainder of his break, and come back later after work to have a drink. Maybe one of his acquaintances—Moe wasn't sure if he could quite call them friends—would be there and he could have a conversation, or something like that. Lost in thought, Moe exhaled, smoke billowing from his cigarette around him. Finally reaching the bar, Moe peered inside and indeed, a band was there, preparing to play. [i]It [/i]was[i] a theremin[/i], Moe thought absentmindedly, mentally congratulating himself for his minor victory.

Somebody walking behind him pushed past him, abruptly bringing Moe once again to his senses. The man, rushing hastily down the street, looked back at Moe with a look of irritation. "Excuse me," the stranger muttered insincerely, as he continued past the bar and into another establishment. With a small frown, Moe turned to look behind himself to see that the flow of people had not yet lessened, and he respectfully stepped back to allow those behind him to pass as he slowed down. 

Withdrawing back towards the wall, Moe leaned against the wall of the building, relaxing slightly. A worn, ragged poster adjacent to the door advertised the band playing—[i]Amish Tech Support[/i]? He didn't know quite what to expect, but shrugged the name off anyway; Moe was a bit indiscriminate when it came to his music preferences, and he [i]was[/i] quite interested in what the theremin would sound like. Checking his phone again, he confirmed that he still had around sixteen or seventeen minutes left. Well, that was still enough time to sit and listen. He could hear sound from within the interior of the bar, but decided to remain outside a few more moments. Moe once again returned to watching the people as they walked by, taking his time and savoring the cigarette. It seemed like a waste of one, but Moe nonetheless located a nearby cigarette receptacle and stubbed it out.

The sound of the theremin greeted him at its full volume as Moe walked into the bar, accompanied by some other assorted instrumentation. Gazing around the room, he didn't see anyone in particular that he knew, although he did see a few people that he thought he recognized as regulars. Moe was feeling out of place in his clean, white work uniform; a futile hope emerged in Moe's head that nobody would notice him. Would there be consequences if he was caught here? [i]Of course there are[/i], Moe thought to himself. What would they be, though? He was getting the feeling that perhaps he should come back later after work, but then chastised himself for his indecision—he had decided to come in here and listen to music, and that's what he was going to do. Moe wandered apprehensively around the door, still hanging back cautiously. The atmosphere of the bar stood in stark contrast with that of Moe's restaurant; it had a lively energy to it, voices and music blending together in a sort of boisterous cacophony. 

Sitting up front at the bar was the man whom Moe had seen walk inside some minutes before, next to whom sat a few other characters who seemed out of place in the raucous environment. A pair of men sat chatting at the bar, one of whom was clad in a red and blue checkered shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. [i]Bit gaudy, eh?[/i] Also out of place was a young woman sitting in the corner of the room, sipping a beer and watching the band preparing on-stage. Turning his own attention to the band, Moe checked his phone again—around fifteen minutes left of his break—and settled down in an unoccupied chair near the entrance.