"Oh, surviving," Noble agreed, with a shrug of his shoulders. He was better — he hadn't found the clarity of purpose that he so wanted, but he was starting to feel like it was out there. He would find it. He was sure of it. This could not just be it — there would be some clarity eventually.

"But I have no complaints this evening," Noble said, after a brief pause to order a pint from the bartender. He took a sip of it, noting silently that Bixby had not actually taken a sip of the whiskey he was playing with. "Do you?"