"What can I get you?" I kept my voice monotone as I could manage in his presence. The man glanced at Tom and shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.
"Whiskey Seven." He answered after a brief pause.
My reply was automatic. "Preference on whiskey?"
He thought for a moment and then shook his head. I tucked my blank notepad back into my apron. Nothing to remember here. I took a moment to shoot a glare at Tom and then turned on my heel.
"I'll have a Jameson neat." He said into my back.
"We're all out." I lied without bothering to turn around.
I passed the order onto Jared who despite my protests made both the Whiskey Seven and a Jameson Neat. With an annoyed, overexaggerated huff at Jared, I collected the glasses and carried them to my only table.
Delicately, I adjusted a cocktail napki
