[right][h2]Morgan's Catharsis[/h2][@Tlazolteotl][/right]

[color=Brown]"Sure as hell."[/color] He laughs and repeats the phrase again before downing the glass. [color=brown]"Sure as hell..."[/color] The liquid burns the back of his throat and he's left crunching ice. He rests a hand on the counter, fingers mindlessly tapping against the surface. [color=brown]"What's this place called? All my life in towns 'n' I ain't ever see a bar so..."[/color]

He takes another look around, eyes scanning over the anxious girl in the corner and Teresa sitting a few seats away from him, then back to the other customers. Wasn't like the other bars he's been too, not too much fighting going on; no rowdy customers overstaying their welcome or yelling. More importantly, he wasn't being called to break up a fight or two.

[color=brown]"Refined."[/color] He sets the empty glass back on the counter. [color=brown]"Never seen a bar so [i]refined[/i] in all my years of livin'."[/color]

He overhears a bit of Teresa's conversation and returns his attention to the bartender. [color=brown]"So, this some kinda after-life?--Purgatory, as they say. Would make sense as to why everyone's so calm, no point in fightin' when you're already dead.... Figured if I ended up anywhere, it'd be six-feet under and burnin' dead."[/color]