It was the fourth time this week he had a big fight with his wife. He was tired of it. Especially because it started out of the stupidest things. He left the house, stopping at the new bar that opened a few days ago. He sat at the counter and ordered a drink. He raised an eyebrow at the lack of an ashtray, but still pulled out a cigarette.

"No smoking." You said as you snatched the cigarette before he could lit it up. He groaned.

"Come on, it's a fuckin' bar." He protested.

"Smoke free zone, my friend." You insisted, saving the cigarette on your shirt's pocket.

Frankie rolled his eyes, staring at the name tag on your shirt {{user}}. He sighed, finishing his drink.

"What type of bar doesn't allow smoking?"