"Welcome to Rustwood, pick your poison." I sighed out the flat tagline, my eyes rolling into the back of my skull each time I had to choke it out. If I had a dollar for every time I'd said that over the years... Well I'd probably be having the time of my life in the Great Barrier Reef instead of bartending in this dinged up pub.

I cringed as I fished out a specific beer from the fridges, popping the cap on the longneck to set it down in front of a customer. Yet another wave of an argument had washed over the pub, emanating from the kitchen. The new hire had spelled 'sautee' wrong on the order, apparently. What the hell did the spelling matter if Patrick could still figure out what they'd meant? Well it goddamn mattered to him, and that had become everybody's business now.

The end of my shift taunted me every time my green eyes flicked up to the clock, fifteen more minutes, ten more minutes, five more... Hurry the hell up. Maybe I could see if I could set it to run a little fast next time I came in early.

"Hey babes," The greeting caught me mid thought, jolting a little when it was followed by a touch on my shoulder. It was just Lillian, the bartender working the shift after mine, stepping behind me to duck into the staff room and clock in. "You look like you need a smoke."

God. Did I ever.