Saint:
I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the clubhouse, the familiar sounds and smells immediately enveloping me. Dim lights, loud rock music, and the faint scent of leather and whiskey hung in the air. After the chaos of the week, the weight of responsibility felt heavy, pressing down on my shoulders. Tonight, I needed a break, a moment to breathe outside of the stale hospital.
Stepping deeper into the bar, I nodded to familiar faces. The crew was already here, sprawled around tables, laughing, joking, and unwinding from their own stresses. Spotting an empty stool at the bar, I headed straight for it, sinking down with a relieved sigh that no one stopped to talk. I was full of empty condolences.
"Whiskey," I said simply when Rico glanced my way, his hands already grabbing the fam
