Discretely sliding back the cuff of his jacket, he glanced down to check his watch one more time. He forced himself to wait while the sweep second hand make its rounds for two and half times, and then abruptly got up and started towards the vacant barstool that stood next to the where the lady cop was seated, staring moodily into the smoky mirror behind the bar.
“Good afternoon, Officer,” he said, in tone that was almost, but not quite, respectful. There was a trace of a bantering tease in his voice, as he slid onto the vacant stool. She turned to look at him, instantly deciding that the guy with the shock of thick dark hair, was not bad looking. But she wasn’t sure at all about his tone of voice -- the way he said “Officer”; she stiffened imperceptibly.
He seemed so self-assured, kind
