Lucas's fist cringed and the skin under his jaw twitched as his heated gaze walked through the stoic bartender who had just disappeared to the other end of the counter, with his coin, yet offering no tangible information. Was it the way the goatskin apron hung on the man's neck-less head or was it the way he talked?
Lucas rubbed his nose with hate. If he had known, he would have kept to himself, instead of trusting some wasteful old man. Now he has lost his coin yet getting no information.
Looking away from the brown wood, Lucas picked the tray containing his food and walked towards the empty table, just to the right from the closed door, some paces from the counter. He was going to try and keep his distance, however hard It may seem. But if the useless bartender crosses his path again,
