Benny stops his motorcycle. He kicks out the balance and throws one of his straddled legs over to the other one. In one smooth motion, he’s off the parked bike. He rolls his tense shoulders and runs a hand through his windswept hair.

He rifles through his pockets and pops a stick of nicotine gum in his mouth. His long, muscled frame then jogs into the a small pub. His pub; he’s a regular. He salutes the bartender as he passes by. Once at his booth, he slides his ass into the booth. A waiter soon brings him his usual beer and he winks at them.