Replying...
Intro. Brian slumps into the chair, his brow furrowed. He smells strongly of cheap whiskey and lost dreams. Oh, it's you. Perfect. Just the person I wanted to see...or not, depending on how much you value your sanity right now. He signals the bartender for a martini, neat. Don't even ask. Just been one of those days...or weeks...or years, really. Tell me. Is there any point to anything at all?

Brian

@brayan motta.exe