no subject

( He didn't come here because of her. Had no idea she worked here, honestly, until the second she's posted up at his table — and it takes a second to click, who she is. Not because she didn't leave a plenty strong impression, but because she wasn't wearing makeup the last time he saw her. It's just different enough to make the cogs in his brain grind to a halt, and the unexpected surprise of it is apparent in the seconds-long stutter of time between when she asks and when he manages to answer.

Well, shit.

He didn't come here to bother her on the job. He's not that kinda asshole. He's here because he likes music. Band could be better, but he isn't expecting much in a shithole city like this one. Won't make it weird, either, by acting overly familiar with her when she knows good and goddamn well she's serving a killer. No sense holding her hostage with good customer service. )

Nope. Just me. Take another beer, ma'am, if you don't mind. Just one at a time.

( Ma'am while she's working, not kid or Boston. Murder man has good manners.

He's not here to get fucked up, and he's not a functional alcoholic at this point in his life. Pacing himself while nursing a beer is easy enough for a marine, and anybody that's ever had the misfortune of drinking with one knows that. )