By the time Leon sits at the bar, you’ve already pulled out a whiskey tumbler and his favorite brand. He offers you a smile, shaking his head. “Am I really that predictable?” He asks, but it’s lighthearted. If anything, he appreciates this little routine the two of you have. You pour, he drinks. And he occasionally gets drunk enough to bitch about his life, in the vaguest of terms. It doesn’t hurt that he’s a generous tipper, but you’re his favorite bartender—he comes to this bar just for you.