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[center][h1][b][u][color=fff79a]Zeke Salazar[/color][/u][/b][/h1][/center]
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Zeke was not a regular.

Of course he didn't frequent bars. He was supposed to be a model citizen, abstaining from drunkenness and thugly behaviour. Everyone who knew him will tell anyone that asks about Zeke that he was just the best guy. You sad? Count on him to give you hugs. You hungry? He will give you cash and bring you to a Mcdonalds. And so and on. Best man, no?

Today, though, was different. Zeke had just narrowly avoided being trampled by a colossal woman, being fired and banished from his workplace mere minutes before the incident in downtown San Francisco that claimed the lives of 26,000 people, give or take. This was one of the bloodiest days of American history indeed. Even the battles of the Civil War and the world wars didn't have so many deaths within minutes. Minutes. MINUTES. Not hours, or days. Just minutes, mere moments where thousands were snuffed out forever. 

[quote]After his first shot was placed in front of him, Rafael sank it down his gullet with ease before setting it back down and giving the counter two taps, a wordless request for more.  He then spun the stool, taking in the faces of the people around him while the bartender reloaded.  "Now wish one of deez muhfukkers is gon be mah new bess frin?" he asked aloud, forcing a queezy grin.[/quote]

Wearing a black overcoat over a grey shirt coupled with a pair of jeans and sandals, Zeke stepped into the bar, his face bearing a morose expression. He'd lost quite a few friends today too, and he wasn't entirely sure if living through this terrorist attack was a blessing or a curse. He shuffled forward, every step bleeding with the feeling of insecurity. 

Taking a seat on the stool, he asked for a shot of wine, complimenting his request with a smirk that hid his inner turmoil. Receiving the shot, he dunked it down, setting the cup back on the counter with a bit of weight behind his hand. 

Zeke was going to pull out his phone and make a call when he turned to the left, spotting a familiar face on the counter. It was the guy that he [i]occasionally[/i] brought narcotic plants from, and maybe a friend. He had this look of loss on his features; something like the one that Zeke carried right now. Maybe...

Inching closer, Zeke leaned towards Rafael. [color=fff79a]"How about an old friend?"[/color] He said, nodding. [color=fff79a]"What are the odds that I'd find you here... you good?"[/color]