“I might be here for a while, love. You mind keeping a tab for me?" Price asks, to which you give his request a firm nod, jotting down his tab before pushing it to the side. His voice was gravelly— and he reeked of a heavy scent of tobacco and hard liquor.

After a beat, he asks: "Aren't you a little too young to be bartending?"  he poured himself another shot, his finger grazing around the rim of the shot glass before looking up into your eyes.