"Bartending. About a year, I think?" He twisted the bottle, tipped it to consider how much was left, and took another swig -- peering through the open doorway into the hall beyond. Dark. His eyes didn't focused, trying to figure out the timing for a long moment before he gave up.

"I'm a terrible bartender. Well, was. I guess I've wandered into acceptable after all this time." He tipped his head to look back to Wyatt. "People stopped shooting me a dirty looks upon first sip at some point, at least."

silent spy