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[h3]8:59 PM[/h3]
[h3]🍷🍺🎵📖[color=#A64575]Jason Blackwood[/color]📖🎵🍺🍷[/h3][/center]

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	The elegant clock on the wall behind him showed it was just shy of 9 o’clock. Jason was glad the patron had already helped him kill most of an hour. So far, it was just the two of them: the odd man who only ever ordered lemonade at the bar. Jason never pressed him on that point. That wouldn’t be professional—or kind. He had no clue what the man’s life entailed. His own was fraught with more than enough for his taste, and he imagined everyone else had their own battles they were fighting. Hell, this guy’s life very possibly was a whole hell of a lot worse than his.

	Jason simply chatted with him here and there, fulfilled any requests, assisted the occasional patron who came up from the booths, and enjoyed the musicianship—ever refusing to fall into the glass-polishing stereotype.

	[color=#A64575]"That guy always plays that song almost every night,"[/color] Jason mused aloud as the music was ending. The patrons all applauded their approval. Sylvie, most of all. He turned toward the big man once more. [color=#A64575]"And I [i]still[/i] am impressed, every time."[/color] 

	Noticing he had long since finished his snack, Jason was about to offer a refresh on his drink and food when he caught the man’s stillness. A kind of citrus-induced trance. Jason had seen that look before—people lost in memory, or maybe just trying to forget.

	Then the door opened across from him, behind his patron. Another impressive specimen of masculinity strode in with an eeriness Jason couldn’t quite place. Had he not been glancing that direction, he might not have noticed the newcomer at all, slipping in just as the next musician began her set.

	[color=#A64575][i]Bienvenue, entrez.[/i][/color]

	It was easily his most practiced phrase—though he was far from fooling a native speaker that he was one himself.