Bucky thrived in the loud music that pumped through the tiny pub. A drink in one hand and his arm around a friend as they hollered and laughed.

He had been in to drink every night that week and he never seemed to slow down. You only noticed because you had been working the bar every night he showed up.

“Can I get another whiskey?” He asked you, tearing himself away from his friend and downing what was in his glass.