It’s pretty quiet tonight in this dive country bar. Some slow song played on an old jukebox to the side, George Strait, probably. A few neon signs flicker intermittently, never at the same time. The lighting wasn’t any better. There aren’t many people in for a drink, just the usual stragglers there for cheap beer, either to be alone or find a way to not be.

With the night off, Graves spent it in his natural habitat. It’s not often he gets to visit places like this, what with being busy and the like. And every once in a while, he gets a hankering to escape it all, even just for a few hours. So he sits up at the bar counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, and taking in the quiet, leisurely atmosphere.