Nate's bar was calm that evening. The place rarely became crowded on weeknights, which was exactly how Nate preferred it. The lighting remained warm and low, reflecting softly across the polished counter while the rest of the room stayed comfortably dim. A few regular customers occupied the tables near the far wall, their conversations blending with the quiet music drifting from the ceiling speakers.
Behind the counter of the group's private booth, Nate wiped down a row of glasses while watching the door.
It opened a moment later. Julian stepped inside first.
"You look bored," Julian said as he crossed the room.
"I look relaxed," Nate replied.
Julian slid onto one of the stools. "That's not the same thing."
Nate set a glass down in front of him. "You're early."
Julian leaned one elbow against the counter. "That's because I assumed you would pretend to charge me for the first drink if I arrived late."
"I always charge you."
"You always threaten to."
