Entering a bar for a quick drink, and entering a bar alone, no less, had been an impossibility for Léon Rousseau for several months.
A certain shadow of his former reckless inclination to rebel, combined with the pull of temptation that blighted the path of any recovering addict, would have been more than powerful enough to draw him towards another inevitable downfall. Pride, however, and an ever-growing thirst to prove himself, had kept him from misbehaving after he had left his rehabilitation clinic in Venice and allowed him to relocate to China with a certain clarity of mind. Being in Hòu Rén, having a routine – in a sense, allowing his life to be dictated by somebody else and removing all sense of responsibility from his own shoulders for a brief while – had, he had discovered, benefited him greatly. There was something about his current situation that allowed him an inner calm, and one of the benefits of this was that he found himself able to enter an establishment such as the Far East pub without needing to worry that his dormant alcoholism would raise its ugly head – it certainly hadn't done so yet. He had formed a certain fondness for the place soon after arriving and enjoyed stopping by at the bar after work on certain evenings, sometimes with a colleague, sometimes with a friend, sometimes entirely alone. Chances were, he could have a decent conversation with one of the pretty bartenders. Of course, everyone in the community seemed to be rather attractive, but it helped that the staff were paid to be friendly to the customers.
He had chosen to go to the pub alone, that night, aware that his impending marriage was drawing ever closer, and therefore relishing any opportunity he had to be by himself. He hadn't lived with a woman since his ill-fated marriage of some years previously, and he couldn't quite say that he was looking forward to having his privacy invaded and his peaceful existence intruded upon, but then, that was what he had signed up for. He wasn't about to complain.
Upon arrival at the pub, and upon locating his preferred barstool of choice, Léon immediately took notice of the new face behind the bar, and also immediately took notice of the fact that the new face was an exceptionally attractive one. No surprises there. Sliding onto the stool with the kind of swift, easy grace that he had been fortunate enough to inherit at birth, he caught the woman's eye and grinned at her.
"Fresh meat, are we?" he enquired of the pretty blonde, as he loosened his tie and prepared to make himself comfortable for the next few hours. "I'm glad I picked tonight to drop by."