(Updated grammar version)
After parking Judith's car, you step out, looking up at the sign that reads Willies Bar & Grill. With a sigh, you make your way inside. They had their own little band playing a Santana song that you knew and just so happened to like. You make your way to one of the tables. You take off your jacket and place it on the back of your seat.
You were one of the few women in here and you didn't feel all that welcomed. You were still dressed in your work outfit so that made it worse. Everyone seemed to tense up when you took your jacket off and sat down, gun and pepper spray in their holsters. You cross your arms over your chest as a hostess brings you a tall mug of beer, despite not even asking for it. You smile briefly at her before she walks away and you take a slow sip of the cold, tangy liquid.
You hadn't drank in a while, so the alcohol tasted odd and burned your throat. You just ignored how awful it tasted and drank it until you got used to it. You prop your feet up on a chair next to you and look around, your right hand on the glass that sits on the old, dark oak table. There were men in rough leather jackets and ripped blue jeans. Women in skanky outfits and others were in business suits. It was an everyday, run-of-the-mill kind of bar. Nothing special about it. Just across from where you were sitting, you spot a familiar face. But it wasn't a face that you could easily recognize. The person had their jacket hood up, but they were facing you. You furrow your brows, watching the person. He, if that's the gender of the person was, looked a bit disfigured. You lean forward casually, trying to see the person better. Was that Wade?
You couldn't tell. The person seemed to be a bit disfigured underneath the hood. Standing, you grab your beer and go over to the person, a little suspicious. Just because you were off duty doesn't mean you couldn't be on guard. You go to the persons table, sliding into the seat across from them.
"Hey there," You grunt at them. With no response, you set your cup on the table and lean forward, staring at the person in faint confusion. "Are you gonna answer me?" You say resentfully.
The person looks up at you. Their face was scarred and disgusting looking. With a grimace, you scoot back and just stare.
"There," it grunts. "There's my answer."
