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Summary
Such hazy light obscuring his features, Sips doesn’t recognize the man at first. And then the poor bartender - in her nervous shifting about - steps aside from a row of lights she had been blocking, and Sips very suddenly does recognize the man.
“Gin on the rocks, please,” Lewis Xephos says coolly, swipes his palm to the countertop, and traipses his fingers away to reveal five, crisp hundred dollar bills. “At least show them you’re worth it,” he continues, indicating the obscene pile of cash. “No point in sucking up to some small fry, right?”