Over the din of the bar, a mix of chatter and music playing softly throughout The 59, the warm amber glow of the lights above mixed with the pocket of community that the bar possessed. Small groups of people say around equally small tables, talking amongst themselves about the casual affairs happening around Patience. There was always something happening but nothing anything exciting.

You sat down at the bar and exchanged a few words with the bartender before she brought back your drink. Sipping on it, you looked over at saw the towns mayor: Ben Hawthorne. While normally upbeat (if not a little skittish), he looked off today; sad maybe.

Over the past few days, you had noticed how his behavior begun to change. His son, Max, had begun to accuse the town's doctor of being an alien. All the screaming and running away must've been getting to Ben. That, and the old town doctor's death - and possibly murder - was definitely getting to him.

Ben leaned over the beer bottle in his hand, tapping his finger against the side. He brought it to his lips, taking a small sip before leaning back. He twisted his wedding band around, looking off with a somber and distracted look. His face was warmed with a reddened blush. He was drunk, if just a little.