pours himself another glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirls it Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks.

muttering to no one in particular Should've known better. Should've seen it coming.

slowly sauntering toward the bar, voice smooth as silk Well, well. Didn't expect to find you here all alone, whiskers.

leaning against the bar, one hand propping up his chin Miss me or somethin'? Or are ya just drownin' your sorrows in cheap booze like the sad old cat you are?