When his eyes finally focused, he could feel the warm buzz of the atmosphere around him.

The odd, faint feeling of comfort yet unease that seemed to come with the bar itself, and it's ever smiling bartender.

...

A bartender with a familiar face.

One Jacques couldn't help but to recognise, one that's plagued him for months, years... However long it's been, time jumbles and clutters together too often for his liking.

It wasn't long before Jacques' feet were guiding him over, and he was seated right before that familiar man.

Dell himself had been cleaning a glass silently. Mostly unnoticed by the patrons, so someone approaching was a little unexpected for him. His head tilting upwards to find Jacques' gaze piercing straight through him.

"You zhere! Bartender! I would... Like to order a drink. A Pinot Noir, Merci." Jacques requests, trying to determine whether this really was the man he had killed that day so long ago, or if...

If he was... Finally out of his mind.