"The sculpture? Think they called it The Inviolate Portal... Which just goes to show," Hagar said, "how apt that they should make it look all phallic." Whether that had been the intention, she couldn't say and didn't care to speculate. Art was for children and the ones who came before. His glass filled once more, Lot seemed willing to chat: a rare occurrence and one that Hagar was more than willing to accommodate.
"I'd say it's a pleasure, but honest to God, I had nothin' better to do. Looks like insomnia's not so useless after all..." Not that Lot didn't know this already, judging by the ever-present shadows that rimmed his eyes. "You should take it easy, boss-man. I'm not towing you back to your bed 'less I know there's a little something in it for me." That was a joke -- and one that was altogether devoid of of truth. Lot didn't get drunk and rely on others to ferry him home. At least not as far as Hagar knew. She leaned against the bar and fixed him with a level stare. "You're drinking with a worrying sense of purpose. Everythin' all right?" The anniversary loomed like silvery rain clouds. There was a reason most people spent the night soused out of their minds.