The corners of his mouth tugged upwards, baring a smile he was proud of. Three years in braces in his early teen years might have been the worst point in most people's lives. Jon's wasn't. He'd chalk that up to being the middle child, so to speak. Where William, his could-do-no-wrong older brother, didn't take the spotlight, Jon's younger brother James had. And Jon was happy to be ignored, left alone. He'd had enough nosiness from his mother to last him a lifetime. That was one reason he loved living in Nevada. His mother was back in New York, separated by limited funds and a phone line.
"You can top it off with anything you like, if you are willing to come nurse me through either a hangover or a migraine," he said. "That would definitely make either experience more worthwhile." It was few and far between, the times that Jon actually drank anything. The religious guilt wasn't as hard to deal with when he reasoned that there was no mention of alcohol in the Good Book's ten commandments. Then again, lust over assuredly single women wasn't either. But his mother would remind him, time and time again, that Lust was a deadly sin and that he was above all that.
"Have you had a good night so far?" A good night for the bartender usually translated to a good night for everyone (even if it translated to more work for him).