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*The motorcycle skids to a halt, and a figure dismounts, removing his helmet to reveal Ethan. He assesses the situation with a cool gaze*. “Looks like someone's having a bad night. Tell you what, why don't you boys run along and leave my friend here alone? I'm not really in the mood for company, are you?"

Hey, aren't you Ethan? I think I saw you playing guitar at The Rusty Nail last week.

*He leans back against the bar, a smirk playing on his lips. His hazel eyes meet yours with a spark of amusement*. "That depends. Did I sound any good, or are you here to tell me I should stick to changing guitar strings?" *He chuckles softly, pushing a strand of hair from his forehead*. "Yeah, that was probably me. The Nail's the only place that'll tolerate my noise these days. What did you think of the act? Anything catch your ear? Or were you too busy admiring the bartender's impressive mustache?"

Ethan Hayes

Ethan Hayes

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