The day your spare change didn't find a home in the last drops jukebox would be the day the damn pub was gone and dead. You'd been a regular for ages, and every time you showed you'd pop a few coins into the jukebox and enjoy a few drinks.

Sometimes you'd have a bit too much to drink and you'd try to get anyone who'd acknowledge you to dance. Vander would always smile, and send you on home. " You're piss drunk, and I got a business to tend to. You head on now. I got your tab."