The dim lights perched on the dipping ceiling cast a pale light upon the near wall, illuminating the glossy face of the clock as the thin hands continue to crawl effortlessly over the circle of numbers. The young man's gaze wanders from the speckled surface of the counter that he's been polishing meticulously to the ticking metronome on the wall to his right. With his attention mesmerized by the methodical and harmonious movement of the three hands, the young man continues to further forget the world buzzing distantly on the other side of his counter.

The languid circles of the towel in his hand upon the granite surface gradually slow to a halt as the long black line and the ever thinner red line meet at the top.

1 o'clock. 

Not even a moment later, the bartender is awaken from his stupor by a voice belonging to a body that seems to have soundlessly appeared upon the stool right before him.

"Hello, bartender."

He greets his customer with a cordial, professional smile. "Welcome, sir. What can I get you to drink ?"

"Let's say a shot of vodka, neat. I need to wet the tongue and loosen the tense thoughts."

"Right away, sir."

Pivoting on his heel, the young bartender strides over to his well, carefully plucking a thin bottle off the wooden rack before turning to the neatly organized set of glasses to select the suitable cup. With a deft curl of the wrist, he spins the bottle upside-down along his palm, his fingers gripping the body in order to expertly guide the thin trail of pale liquid spiraling into the short glass. The bartender carefully slides the drink towards his customer, and the latter offers a quick word of gratitude before studying the young man behind the counter with a quizzical expression painted along his features.  "You look rather young, bartender. Are you new to the job ?"

"This is my second year in the occupation, sir."

A raised eyebrow above a gaze of intrigue. "Is that so ? Pardon me, for your countenance struck me as younger than even the drinking age." He sips a third of the shot glass.

A gentle chuckle passes his upturned lips. "It's a common misconception. I bear the visage of a youthful teenager, yet my soul croons a nostalgic, long-forgotten tune from the early days of the taverns and the saloons."

A thoughtful countenance decorated with a comfortable smile. "The simple, old spirit dwelling peacefully behind the blinding beams of radiant youth. A pleasant combination, I'd say."

"Thank you." The graceful smile upon the bartender's gleaming face dissolves to reveal an anxious frown as he inspects the rather neglected glass upon the counter. "Is the drink not to your liking, sir ?"

A soft grin laced with anticipation. "Why do you ask that ?"

He motions to the shot glass with a swift glance, which elicits a warm chuckle from the customer.

"I wanted to wet the tongue, dear bartender, not scorch the throat." A test.

A knowing smile creeps along the young man's visage. "Forgive me, sir, for it's not every day that I meet another who moderates drink and abuses discourse."

A soft "oh" escapes his lips as he rests his chin upon a fist, leaning in with a captivated expression. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a kindred spirit."

"We are a rarity, unfortunately," the bartender confesses with a weary lilt in his calm voice.

The glass rises swiftly from the counter. "Then let me drink to our health."

The young man lifts a fist, clinking a knuckle with the glass in the form of a cheer. "To the humble drinkers."

The other flashes a set of brilliant teeth before hovering the edge of his cup a breath above his lips. "To the patrons of eloquence."

As the customer downs another third of his shot glass, the bartender challenges him with a raised brow and a playful grin. "I hope your thoughts are strong swimmers."

A suave, yet smug smirk and eyes alight with wicked confidence parry his attack. "Fear not, for the night is still young for a sobering conversation."

His heart jolts. "Wisely put, sir," the bartender replies, his head tipping towards the counter to hide his pleased grin and bashfully downcast eyes.

The young customer watches idly as the bartender busies himself momentarily with replacing the bottle of vodka and checking his inventory.

"Are you new here, bartender ?"

"Yes, sir. I've been here for close to three weeks now." He pauses. "You must be a regular, I presume ?"

"Of sorts." With a pensive expression upon his countenance, the young man swirls the remainder of his drink with a languid roll of the wrist. "I am more like the lonely ghost that constantly haunts these crowds of strangers in a futile search for a suitable acquaintance."

Another pointed challenge from the bartender directs itself upon his guest. "Then I daresay that your standards must be rather high."

"As are yours, no less." A flawless counter.

Another beat skips, but this time the bartender ventures bravely with a cheeky grin. "Right you are."

A twinkling laugh fills the air between the two before the young man slumps a bit in his seat, an exhausted sigh spilling from his mouth as the mirth drains from his previously glowing face. "Ah, when did enjoying simplicities become so difficult, dear bartender ?"

His soft features visibly harden as a wistful tone weighs down his normally serene and soothing voice. "Long ago, I'm afraid. Pounding music and alcoholic comas have overwhelmed the once-appreciated exchange of ideas behind modest drinks."

A nod with thoughful eyes cast aimlessly in a nondescript direction. "Well said."

He hums absently in agreement, eyes flickering to the other man as the latter hurriedly fumbles for the beeping cellular in his pocket that had shocked him back to reality. A sweet chuckle resounds in the bartender's throat. "Is morning calling ?"

A resigned smile. "Unfortunately so."

The bartender offers a sympathetic smile in return. "A shame."

"Agreed." As he rises from the bar stool, the customer rummages through the pocket of his jacket. "Thank you for the lovely chat, bartender. Let me leave you a tip."

A pleasant, toothy grin stretches along his radiant features as he curtains his eyes with a courteous nod. "You're very welcome, sir, and I greatly appreciate your sincerity."

A soft clink upon the smooth surface of the granite counter resounds in the young bartender's ears, prompting his lidded eyes to flutter open with a gaze locked upon the source of the noise before him.

Two cents.

"Drink vodka with company; you'll enjoy it better that way."

He chances upon a dazzling smile along charming features before his guest disappears behind the doors, leaving the bartender to smile in a genuinely uplifted manner to himself in tranquil solitude.

As the mirth bubbling in his veins subsides into an overall warm feeling in his bones, his gaze wanders back to the face of the ever ticking clock mounted upon the wall.

1:49.

---

Updated at last !

The chapter and the seventh chapter will be the shortest, and the other five chapters will follow a similar pattern that deviates from the two aforementioned chapters. By the end of the next chapter, I hope you all will understand how this story will play out, and the interest will increase... )) Hopefully I haven't lost you all with the unorthodox speech patterns between our lovely bartender and his mysterious guest; do let me know in the comments area if there is a certain line (or even lines) that doesn't make sense. (For example, the lines in italics ?) Sometimes I'll be the only one to understand the underlying message, so this type of feedback will be healthy for me as I try to improve my writing.

Other than that, I hope you all enjoy and comment ! ))