“‘ ‘eah.” He pauses as if to break up one of the fights now in motion and decides against it. He asked her to take him home and that is where he is going. “I know better than to linger when I’m passin out.” And slurring his words. That is always a bad sign. It isn’t the passing out that’s the problem.

It’s his second wind. Shiro narrows his eyes at someone jumping up on the table. Their bottle that had been heading towards someone else’s head pauses. He gets sized up as he walks by. Don’t try it buddy.

His fist is made of metal and he has an axe to grind tonight. “Black showed up same month I did.” The drunk keeps watching him. Being drunk himself he keeps track with a slight shift of his head. Walk away. They pull the bottle back. He presents his fist and they think better of it.

Satisfied, he faces forward and reaches the halfway point. Half a bar to go.