[center][h2]A Friendly Drink (Katya Voss cont.)[/h2][/center]

“Any day you don’t pull your pistol is a good day.”  As he watched the man retreat through the double doors, Dorian mused, “not a good day…but not a bad one, either.”  He returned his own weapon to its’ cross draw holster, an economical gesture bearing none of the flourish enjoyed by some of his counterparts.  Though still flustered by her ordeal, the bartender paid a keen eye as his gun tucked into black leather.  “Yah don’t owe me a thing, ma’am,” he offered a pleasant smile, “though Ah nevah turn down a drink with good company.”

The next moment found him once again at the bar, nudging his stool forward to prop a casual elbow upon the worn edge.  “Ah presume,” he answered her earlier question, “that yah’ve got a fav’rite cocktail?  Yah signature drink?  It’d be mah honah tah lift a glass with yah…Katya, is it?”  The newcomer extended his hand.  “By tha way, Ah’m Dorian.   Dorian Adler.”