Liz and Sid
It didn't take a moment for Sid to realize Liz hadn't heard a word he'd been saying. Not that it had been of any real importance, mostly he'd just been questioning how many times they could play "What's New Pussycat" before they got kicked out of the bar. Or something equally terrible. Actually he hadn't even looked at the jukebox's offerings. He liked music only slightly less than Liz did, and the thought of having a means to listen to it on something other than his old iPod with its nasty habit of cutting out every now and then, and quickly dying battery (meaning it basically had to be plugged into the wall at all times) was probably more overwhelming than he wanted to admit.
He drained the shot of Jack Daniels he'd ordered and shrugged. "Why? You itching to get out of here or something?" Personally, Sid could stay all night. Having somewhere to go and hang out that wasn't a common area in the hospital or the LBJ Library was kind of exciting for him. It almost made him forget the world had effectively ended. As long as they were in the bar the grass was lush and green and the living dead weren't prowling on the other side of the walls.