A minute or two later, the bartender slid Wilson his Guinness. "The food's gonna be a little longer," he said before stepping around the counter and heading towards Lee.

She glared up at him as he held the Ambar just out of reach. "I'm in no fucking mood tonight. What?"

"Guy at the bar said to put it on his tab," the bartender told her.

For a minute, Lee forgot to be pissed. She looked like someone had just punched her very quickly, that kind of "Whoa, wait, what?" expression that she was more used to seeing on the faces of other people. "Seriously?" she asked. He nodded, and she laughed once. God, how long had it been since anyone had offered to buy her a drink? Years, at least.

She shrugged and grabbed the beer. "What the hell. I don't have anything better to do tonight, anyway. You, scoot," she said, waving the bartender off. He obliged, and she gave the guy at the bar a studying look. "Hey, you," she called, waving him over.