Wilbur leaned against the bar top as he sat down, the bartender asking him what he’d like. “Vodka.” Will muttered, in country accent thick as he watched the bartender pour his drink. Wilbur glanced around, noticing the jukebox wasn’t lit up like normal, which caught the bartender’s eye.

“They’re closin’ us down.” The bartender says, to which Wilbur glanced at him from the corner of his eye.