Snippet #2562408

The stallion was the same as usual, despite the recent events. It was a medium-sized building, lined with old wooden tables and a long bar against the leftmost wall. Each round table had eight rough steel-reinforced wooden chairs around them, and at the moment all but one of those tables was full. The right wall also had a few booths with plump leather cushions, however most of these were full of some of the shadier customers the bar served. Before moving towards his seat Guy noted a clump of people sitting closest to the door that looked rather flustered. They probably ducked in when the gunfight started outside.

Guy took a seat at his usual stool at the far side of the bar. The stool was constructed of old-fashioned brass and stretched, beaten leather that complemented the aged wood countertop. The counter was lined with an assortment of taps that led to kegs concealed under the bar. Against the back wall was a large set of shelves lined with a variety of cheap liquors and craft beers, and below that was a locked safe containing the expensive stuff. The only modern thing in this bar was the new-age dish cleaner that stood in the corner. It could wash, sanitize and dry all of the mugs and glasses used by the patrons in a matter of minutes.

The bartender slid over to his spot the moment he was comfortable. He was a medium-sized man, somewhat brawny and sporting a large, graying-brow handlebar mustache and two bushy caterpillar eyebrows. He was polishing a mug with a dirty rag, leaving smears on what was previously clean glass. He spoke with a false Texan accent. "I see all that noise finally died down. I was afraid those poor bastards near the door were gonna to make a dash for their cars. Anyhow, what can I getcha?"

"I'll have the three-for-one deal tonight. And use a fresh glass this time; last week I almost swallowed a mug full of whatever's on that old rag of yours."

Guy ignored the disdainful look from the barkeep and waited for his drinks to arrive. Shortly after, he heard the doors swing open with a distinctive creak. He briefly nodded at Huey as he sat on the vacant stool next to him. He noticed him flourishing some type of device as he took his seat, but ignored it; Huey seemed to be flashier than he was as a kid. "Well, what a way to meet up again, huh?"

Guy snorted as the bartender placed three tall mugs of slightly skunked ale on the counter in front of him. He examined the glass and, finding it satisfactory, took a long drink. He placed the mug back on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's putting it lightly, kid. It's been what, thirteen years since I left the orphanage? And back then you were just a dumb kid who kept trying to be a hero. Now I see you killing street thugs like they were cockroaches that got in your bed. I'd heard rumors, but I never thought you'd be so... efficient." He paused and took another long sip from his mug. "I'd offer one of my drinks, but it's probably not the type of stuff you're used to drinking, Mr. Penthouse."

He was being a bit rough, but Huey probably knew him enough to know how he was. Guy was actually pretty happy to see someone else who'd made it out of the orphanage without getting stuck on the streets, even if he didn't say it up front.