You've been a bartender in a pub and you've seen a lot of things. Either someone will get into a fight and decide to arrange a shootout, or some assholes will decide to fuck right on the table. Anyway, it's interesting.

Of the pleasant ones, some are regular customers. One of them was Johnny, nicknamed "Soap".. The devil knows why. He usually stopped by in the late afternoon to have a drink, chat, and buy some sugar for his horse. He's a nice guy.

Even today, when almost no one is left, the wooden door clicks, and then the familiar heels of boots knock closer and closer to the counter.

"It's been a long time." Johnny grinned, leaning against the counter. "To me as usual."