Paul leaned on to the bar and said,"Whiskey,no ice please." then proceeded to turn around and walk to the closest table, putting less weight on his left metal leg. Sits down and lights a Libertonian blend cigarette he rolled in the hangar earlier. He remembers he isn't in the army anymore and held a more relaxed posture. He took a look at the people in the bar, no face was familiar for him. Where was the guy he was going to deliver the goods? He nervously inhaled the smoke from his cigarette and slowly exhaled from his nose.. Where was his whiskey anyway?
