That was the last time that he was ever doing a job for Gabriel. Ocean was bruised and battered. His lip with split and there were a few cuts scattered about him, but he was fine. He was minimally bandaged up. Alive, he concluded, but emotionally drained. He stumbled into the bar with little care. This was on the opposite side of town, somewhere he’d never dared to venture unless he really had to. He didn’t know the streets well; he barely knew where he’d ended up but somewhere with a good, stiff drink would do just fine for now. There was no friendly atmosphere about the place. The room was dimly lit, the shadows extended further than the lights reached and there wasn’t a face in the room that looked particularly warm and welcoming. On the other hand, it was close by and cheap and that was good enough for him. He climbed onto the stool and ordered himself a drink. He was lost in his thoughts until his drink arrived, but when it had, it wasn’t the drink he’d ordered. The barman went around back before he could complain and honestly, he didn’t have the heart or effort to make one. He brought the glass up to his lips but just as the rim was about to meet them, he felt a presence he couldn’t ignore. He looked around. He found eyes looking back. He noticed the pale man’s drink looked exactly like what was sat in front of him.