Frankie was settled in one of the booths, inside the bar that he and his pals had frequented since the start of their military days. The place was bustling, lively, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at one of Redfly’s stupid jokes. His chocolate-brown eyes glinted, & he lifted his worn cap jus’ to quickly fix his tousled, dark hair.

The man’s moustache twitched when he caught sight of someone a few metres away from him.

He decided to approach. He had a buzz going. So why the hell not?

“Hey!” It’s a call. A little slurred, mumbly, but Francisco gives a sheepish little smile, cheeks rosy, ‘stache curling a little whilst he scratches at the curls on the back of his neck.

“Want some company?”