02-05-2018, 06:00 PM
The beer was not terrible.
Then again, when Ryker put the bottle to his lips, any memory for comparison was long ago dulled. He was studying the logo of a griffin on the bottle label when a voice interrupted.
"Well? Did I tell you, or what?" The waitress, hand on her hip, was smiling expectantly. Long brown hair, wide-eyes, and a narrow waist. She wasn't ugly. Ryker lifted the bottle in mini salute. His leather jacket crinkled softly with the movement of his arm.
"You were right. It's not terrible,"
he replied.
She chuckled and journeyed to the next table.
Not terrible summed up the entire bar, come to think of it. The floor was old, but mopped. The tables wobbled on uneven legs, but were wiped down. The servers competent, but not dreadfully unattractive. It was the kind of place he could blend in when he wanted. It was filled with the kind of people that he needed to study.
He swung the stool slightly, bottle resting the cap of his knee. The jeans darkened slightly where the condensation dripped. He shifted the bottle aside, then, casually swiping the wetness away.
His best eye sharpened as he measured the entrances and exits, the manner and carriage of those in view. A kitchen smelled like cooks worked at a steady pace. When the door to the back swung open, he glanced two such cooks. He wasted no more thought on them.
Beer sipped, he watched.