Claude was in a bar. Nothing particularly special about that- he loved his drink, and a bar was as good a place as any to get some. It was his normal type of bar as well- well-stocked, older, still smelling faintly of cigarette ash from before the smoking ban was passed, and just crowded enough that no one really looked at each other when their elbow got jostled or their toes got stepped upon, but not so crowded that he couldn’t move. That was good. He’d learned a long, long time ago that being... read more
