It had only hit Colin recently that Thanksgiving was fast approaching and that meant Christmas was right around the corner. Over the years, the holidays had changed in meaning, going from loud, fun family gatherings, sometimes in Wales and sometimes in America to loud, often aggravating family gatherings with family friends and random boyfriends and girlfriends and distant cousins in attendance. He wasn't planning on going home for either holiday this year and it had dawned on him that he actually had no one to spend the season with, not even friends he could invite over for Thanksgiving dinner.
It was rare for Colin to be melancholic, but that night certainly struck him as rather sad, and not wanting to be alone, he headed out. Beacon Hills didn't have much of a nightlife but there were bars and taverns and the like that provided much needed solace for the residents of Beacon Hills. Different from The Jungle and the other club that Colin had yet to check out, the bars were quieter, smaller, and generally didn't have bodies grinding on the dance floor (mostly because there were no dance floors).
The one he picked that night was quiet, and he made his way to the bar, rudely picking the stool directly next to someone. Colin was gregarious enough that he liked having someone to talk to, even when trying to ignore his feelings.
"Looking glum there," he commented, turning to the gentleman on his left after the bartender took his order - whiskey, on the rocks (because it was rare that any of the bars in town stocked a good beer).