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Summary
Well here was a new face: a lecturer most likely, maybe even a professor given his age. He looked terribly out of place in Hope in Hell – Dal suspected he was not here for Two Tequila Tuesday- but he still came over to the bar.
“Good evening. May I have a double Lathander- neat, no ice.” In some ways Dal supposed he was rather handsome: brown hair beginning to grey effortlessly, a well-trimmed beard around his nervous smile and a rebellious silver earring twinkling in the dim light of the bar.
“Sir, I have no idea what that even is. Whisky, I presume?” Dal gestured behind her. “We have a few bourbons and blends, but not this ‘Lathander’. I’m sorry.”
The customer looked at her as if he had suggested he drink toilet water.