Flint sipped at his drink, when he finished he had another and soon was on his third when a tall man, probably around Flints age, walked into the establishment and sat beside him. 
He looked gormless and unhealthy, probably some kind of junky. Despite this he smelt intoxicating, with perfume filling the air near Flint. Probably from woman willing to pay for him. Flint felt a little sorry, wondering how low one could fall. He also felt better about himself, not relying on narcotics to keep himself sane.

Flint turned to the man. "Flint, Flint White and you?" He said answering a question he wasn't asked as he offered his hand to the tall gentleman. "Rough day?" He asked taking a sip of his drink. 
"Maybe this guy would like a gun" Flint thought to himself "Prostitutes where one of the most murdered jobs around here." Flint kept his thoughts to himself as he talked to the man, maybe he would bring it up later.