'The f**k, guy? ', shaking his head as he went back to his drink not remembering that he came all this way to become a hanger, but;
"Hey.", said the bar keep.
"...Hey.", Rowland answered with sobering polite.
"On the run, huh? ", she asked whilst pouring a lager for someone before whipping the drying cloth over her right shoulder now leaning. Rowland looked away a moment but smiled gently, it must have been written all over his face with his bruised knuckles and colourful Band-Aids, it practically screamed.
"What makes you think I'm running?", he laughed off his own denial.
"I'm a bar tender, sweet heart. We're a league of underpaid psychologists.", Rowland laughed when she said this as she toiled away and cleaned glasses as well as the mess made from Nick's request.
"Like your fr
