Kons held up his whiskey glass to the girl, indicating silently that it could do with refilling if she was feeling generous. He had been coming here long enough to know that one did not get on the wrong side of this young woman - not that he had any intention of doing so - but he felt an odd sense of pride that his actions, unnecessary though they had been, had been appreciated.

It made him feel strangely warm.

“Just whiskey, I think,” he looked around the bar cautiously. “Nice and quiet tonight. I don’t suppose you’d care for one too?”

Belatedly he realised that she had made the offer first and laughed at himself; another thing he had discovered he could do in these long cold months, along with drinking himself into oblivion and still getting to work, and avoiding his old friends like the plague: . “On me, this time.”