Bench near the pool table: Michael C & Reece E
Reece made the now-sort-of-familiar hike from the B&B to the Mean-Eyed Cat on foot—on beautifully-booted foot. It wasn't too cold out for that yet. In fact, it was warmer than it had been that night in the abandoned house, and he didn't have to cover his nose or anything potentially embarrassing like that. He had on his red hat, puffy blue coat, over (expensive) grey sweater and (expensiver) blue slacks. And inside, he didn't even need the hat or coat. His cheeks were flushed with the heat of that compressed space, and the man already had a pint cooling and crying against his palm, leaving a wet ring on his thigh, as he sat. It was unfortunate, him being as tall as he was, as he had to spend a good amount of time trying to avoid the back-pulls of pool cues, aimed right at his forehead by negligent players. He needed to not lose his memory too.
He had words for Cat, but Michael had worried him, so... he was waiting. He didn't know anyone else, so he tried not to look like a loser, there, alone. Cat was busy anyway, right? So he amused himself with scanning various people and the garbage they carried in their pockets. He tried not to think about dead bodies. He tried, like, super hard.