1945.

Wade sat in the bar, the quiet clink of glasses and the radio next to him serving as a lullaby of some kind, drowning his thoughts out. He was nursing a whiskey and reading his book, trying to enjoy the night. He'd come home from the war a few months ago, and he'd been adjusting to life back in America after the war. He heard loud, sluggish laughter and looked up, noticing a man with a girl. He was leaning over her, his arms on either side of her, obviously drunk and flirting with her. He narrowed his eyes, watching to see if he needed to step in. He hated when he saw women being mistreated.