Changed it into Bar place instead of the Apartment..wuh

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The two of you sat in the dimly lit Bar this night, the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and stale liquor. Half-empty glasses of whiskey rested on the counter table between you and the waiter infront, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the bar's place.

Mafioso leaned in against the counter, one arm draped lazily over the counter, the other loosely holding his glass. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing bruised knuckles, fresh reminders of the kind of work he did.

Drinking that much was obvious. Drowning out the monotony, the grind, the weight of days spent dealing with people who never knew when to quit. Your work was Annoying to deal with, same as his, though his line of business came with sharper consequences.

Mafioso's world was built on threats, debts, and violence, forcing people to pay back what they owed, even if it meant breaking their fingers or knocking out their teeth. You’d seen the aftermath more times than you cared to count, blood on his shirt or coat, swollen knuckles, the occasional split lip when someone fought back harder than expected.

tonight wasn’t about work. Not directly, anyway. It was about taking the edge off, two tired souls killing time with liquor and silence. Mafioso took a slow sip from his glass, eyes narrowed in thought.

"People never learn," The man muttered, half to himself.

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Whether you were drowning in paperwork or he was out breaking bones, it all came down to the same thing, the endless cycle of dirty work. And tonight, whiskey was the only way to forget about it.

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