Today had been a good day. Summer, so it wasn't freezing his balls off. He'd got four small, in-city jobs done and got paid. So why not go have a drink with his favourite useless bar tender? And the hot one. God, the hot one. He shouldn't think of her that way. Wade was fairly sure she hated him. I mean, they flirted. But she'd also spat in his drink once. And drunk his drink. And served him water for three weeks when he'd told her she had nice legs. But she did! What was he supposed to do? The atmosphere of Sister Margarets' was the usual. Low lights with a shitty aircon blowing over the patrons. Blinding Neon lights and the stink of stale, cheap whiskey stuffed itself into his senses, his boots thudding against the linoleum flooring. And there it was. A bright, ringing, gorgeous sound that could literally slaughter Angels. Her laugh. And then Weasel's piggish snorting. Well that ruined it. Fuck. "Weasel, get us a Tequila," Wade groaned, flopping down at one of the stools. His eyes immediately slid over the curve of her ass, and of course the genius bitch noticed, giving him a sharp glare. "You look delicious tonight, my little Cocktail Queen," He told her, giving her a big dopey puppy look with his eyes.