Guy wasn't late, perhaps because he found all this important, and perhaps because he was already in Good Spirits when the writing had taken place. He is a shadow that often lingers on the furthermost stool up at the bar, becoming so very much a part of the scenery that those about him hardly take notice anymore. Except for the bartender, that is.

Guy waits with three empty glasses, like tombstones, empty and lined along the countertop while his hand swirls the only tumbler that still, bearing the slosh of tinted liquid, seems to have any life at all. It isn't for the smell, but because he's bored and it gives his hand something to when it isn't occupied with holding a lit cigarette.