Stephen stands up so quickly from the stool he was sitting on that he gains the bartender’s attention.
“Hey, you okay?” The bartender questions as he moves toward Stephen.
“Yeah, I um. . . I guess I just don’t like talking about how people die.” Stephen says quickly hoping his reaction does not come across as odd to the men. The last thing he needs is for everyone to start pointing fingers at him. The authorities would surely take him in for further questioning, and in what little research they would do, could gain access to his extensive past and mental health issues. He sits back down and rests his arms on the bar.
“I’m with Mike on this.” Ferenc says in a quick slur. “I don’t want to hear anymore about it either.”
He waves his hand out in a straight line from right to left, and then puts his arm across Stephen’s shoulders, leaning on him in a drunken stance. It is all Stephen can do to stay upright on the stool under this man’s wobbling pressure.
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