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The bartender at The c**k And Bull slid another pint of beer in front of the blond dreadlocked man at the bar, eyeing him closely. He didn't look as drunk as he should be after four beers, but who was she to judge a man's alcohol tolerance? This guy always paid his tab, no matter how prodigious it became over the course of an evening. Or afternoon. At least he never opened the place, even if he did close it on occasion. And she knew he didn't drive, so no risk of putting the pub on the authorities' list of places who let drunks drive.

Besides, she liked the music the man played. Made it feel more like an authentic Irish pub.

"Cheers, love," Rob replied in a very non-drunk manner, giving the bartender a happy smile. In truth, he was feeling the beer some, but not much; his tolerance for alcohol was akin to that of your average fratboy. At this point, the booze was only making him feel merry. And why shouldn't he feel merry? Only three days back busking on the street corner near DCU and that coffee shop and he'd already had his first $300 day. Why not celebrate his Grand Comeback?

Rob took a drink from the fresh pint glass, then leaned back and retrieved his pennywhistle from his hip pocket. Raising the instrument to his lips, he began to play along to the Chieftains song playing on the bar's jukebox. There were a lot of different tunes on the juke, everything from Irish trad songs to 90s radio favorites, and the dreadlocked musician knew them all. He played along note-perfect, throwing in flourishes and rolls and other ornamentation as dictated by the song, even carrying on a little after the end. "Thank you, thank you," he barstool-bowed when he finished, setting his pennywhistle on the bar and taking another drink of his beer. A couple of people, including the bartender, applauded, and that to Rob Anybody made it all worthwhile. "Thank you, I'll be here all night."

He likely would be, too.