[Name] stood at the bar, absentmindedly drying some beer glasses. The bartender sighed, another typical night. Strippers prancing around in the nude, men getting into fist fights, and then there were the sad drunks who kept on complaining about how crappy their life is. Some nights it's be interesting, like underaged teens attempting to buy a drink with a fake ID card. Watching them get into trouble with the police and their parents was always a comical sight.
"Hey, didn't you hear me?! I said I wanted another shot!" A mad had slurred, slamming his hand on the bar counter. It was obvious he was drunk off his ass, which only brought an annoyed scowl to [Name]'s face. "Here." He said, pouring a shot of vodka and passing it to the intoxicated stranger. "Bout time I got my drink." He muttered, gulping it down and walking off. [Name] shook his head and went back to drying glasses.
The man returned again, requesting for another shot. "Sir, I think you've had enough." The bartender said, sternly. "I'll have had enough when I say I've had enough!" The man said, reaching over the counter and grabbing the collar of [Name]'s shirt. "Sir, please let go of me." He said, calmly. This wasn't any different from other nights. At least one person would have threatened [Name] while they were under the influence. He knew how to deal with them, they were more annoying than they were threatening. The two glared at each other until the other man balled his hand into a fist. He threw a punch at [Name], effectively knocking him back into the rack of drinks behind the bar. A few bottle dropped, no doubt that would be coming out of [Name]'s paycheck. He stood up, a couple of cuts here and there on his face. "Listen, sir, I have the right not to serve you! You're clearly too drunk off your rocker to even be thinking straight!" [Name] said, wiping the blood off of a rather large gash on his cheek.
"Why you little--"
The man stopped in mid-sentence, the air from his lungs escaping him. He fell over in pain, clutching his stomach. Another man stood there, withdrawing his fist. He turned to look at [Name], his red eyes glowing with anger. "Thanks...um..." [Name] stared at him, expecting his savior to say something.
"Just call me Jones."
"Right...thanks, Jones." [Name] turned around and began cleaning up the mess the drunken bastard had made. He sighed, picking up the broken pieces of glass and tossing them in a nearby trash can. Jones sat down on a bar stool, watching as the bartender cleaned up. After he was done, [Name] turned to the man and gave a small smile, "I coulda handled myself, you know." Jones scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Not from where I was standing. You were one more punch away from a trip to the hospital." He scowled and shot the bartender a glare. [Name]'s some disappeared, his usual serious expression befalling his face. "Whatever. You gonna drink anything or just sit there?" He stared at the man intently, as if the two her having an unspoken staring contest. "Beer. And I didn't have to help you, okay?" Jones sneered, clutching one of his hands into a fist. [Name] turned to grab a beer, "Well, I didn't ask for you help," he passed the beer to the man and smirked. "Tch. Never got your name, by the way." Jones said, ignoring the barkeeper's remark. "[Name]." He replied, simply.
The next couple of nights, Jones kept returning, asking for the same beer each time. It continued like this for a couple of months, until finally [Name] was curious as to why he kept coming. As Jones entered through the front doors of the bar, he gave a casual wave to [Name]. On cue, he had a glass of the man's usual drink ready on the counter. Jones took a seat and took a large gulp. "Rough day?" [Name] asked, drying some glasses. "Dumbasses, dumbasses everywhere." Jones said, laying his head on the cool surface of the counter.
"You never did tell me what your job was. Or your first name, for that matter."
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." [Name] laughed, thinking the remark was a joke. He stopped when he noticed the serious look in Jones's eyes. "Right. Well, what about your first name? You've been coming here for about three months now, and all I know you by is 'Jones'." He stated, quickly changing the topic. There was a long pause between them. "Alfred." The other man said, after a while. [Name] gave a genuine smile, for once. "I like you, Alfred. You're not as annoying as most of my customers." He chuckled, preparing another drink for Alfred. "...Yeah, I like you too." He said half-heartedly. After a while, Alfred passed [Name] a large some of money and said, "Keep the change," before exiting the premises. The barkeeper looked down at the large money and found a piece of paper inside. Scrawled on it was Alfred's phone number, and the words "Call me, maybe."