Ashure stood at the entrance to the pub and looked around the dimly lit interior. This was obviously a place well frequented by the local residents. An older woman called out to him to find any vacant seat.
All the tables and booths were occupied. He scanned the room a second time. There was a table in the corner. A lone man sat in the chair pressed up against the wall and was moodily staring at his bottle of beer.
“Now nothing says troubled soul more than someone all alone,” he murmured.
“I’m Dorothy, love. What will you have?” Dorothy asked as she walked by him.
“A glass of your finest ale, dear Lady,” he replied.
Dorothy laughed. “One beer coming up,” she said with a grin.
“Ah, a lass after my own heart,” he responded with one of his most charming smiles.
Dorothy flushed, and her
