Garrick had just had a cigarette before he stepped inside, but a part of him craved another. The burn. The sting. The rolling of smoke off his tongue. But he stayed slumped in his seat, elbows on the bar and eyes trained on Landon as he moved. Fingers grabbing his drink of choice. Garrick snorted at his comment. “Wouldn’t think Anchors Away as the kind of establishment that would cater to shirtless service, but who knows. If not for that supposed violation you could be branching out for more tips.”
The dark amber liquid sloshed in the bottle. He recognized the make, appreciative of the generous choice with a tilt of his head. Landon slid over the glass, ice rattling as it sat on the counter in front of him. Throwing the bartender a kind look, he said, “I have faith that your choice will be perfect.” As if to prove his point, Garrick picked up his drink and took a long sip, letting the familiar fire of the whiskey lick down his throat. He set it back down with a quiet sigh, meeting Landon’s gaze and he muttered, “Yeah, man. I’m fine. It’s just been, uh—been a hard night.”
Landon smirked. "You kidding? Boat-themed bar, right near the shore. It's prime time for shirtless service, babe. Or, at least some sort of Hooters situation." Again, he was mostly joking, but as the type of guy who had no shame in showing off his body especially when it came to making money, it seemed like a prime opportunity.
"Yeah?" the male arched his brows, giving Garrick a friendly wink as he watched him take a sip. "Bottoms up." Landon wasn't the type to pry -- he'd gladly let bygones be bygones if he didn't want to open up, but it appeared that wasn't entirely the case. With a nod, Landon leaned forward, forearms resting on the counter. "Any particular reason?" he asked softly, head tilted to the side. "I'm all for drinkin' your sorrows or whatever, but typically when that happens there's somethin' else going on."
