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After a long stretch of work, Doc needed to unwind. Elsmere was in a place that hadn't gotten too cold yet on the planet so he found it enjoyable. Sure, most everyone knew who he was but he managed to be inconspicuous. It was an older style bar, one that he liked. Walking in the door, he stood a moment and looked around. He didn't notice anything unusual so he kept on about his business.
He was dressed of a time past. Black and white gambler's attire with a large hat. He wore his trench coat slightly open. Inside but out of site, one about chest high set for a right hand brandish and the other tucked center in his belt were his pistols. He kept them but seldom had to reach for them at this point of his life. Still, he hadn't lost a step should he have to. He stepped up to the bar.
"Scotch, Please," he asked the bartender.
"Right away," the barkeep answered as he put a glass on the bar and began to pour.
"Anything else, Mister?" he asked.
"Not right now," replied Doc as he placed some credits on the bar. "I'll take the bottle with me. That should more than cover it."
He took his glass and his bottle to a table toward the back. Once there, a waitress took his food order.
It was evident. The man just looking to unwind a bit.
