From a booth somewhere toward the back, Wes was keeping an eye on Sam and Constantine. Mostly Sam. He worked with Sam, and Sam had bitched about Constantine a number of times. He had a feeling he was going to get to see his girl in action, it was just a matter of how long she'd let them bicker before she got involved. He was looking forward to it, though he'd never admit that.
Sam downed the second half of his drink, and looked at the bartender. "I want the damn drink either way," he said. "You're an ass. You killed my brother, least you could do is buy me a drink."