In bright neon, struggling against the night: TAWNY'S REST The sign hummed and crackled every so often, breaking the silence of the lonely street. The entrance was closed, but the faint sound of music and chatter among the bar's patrons signified that it was indeed open for business. The bartender & owner, Tawny Shay, opened this establishment in the mid-40's for those with nowhere else to go during those pesky late nights. It was nearing 3 A.M. and the bar was just as lively as ever - well, as lively as it could ever get. There were the occasional rowdy individuals that would stop by and try to cause trouble, but eventually left when they realized the patrons didn't care one bit about their empty bravado. Outside of those, people kept to themselves, everybody knew each other, and were generally polite to Tawny. He liked that. He hardly talked, mostly because he was getting up there in age and it hurt his throat, but also because his voice often unnerved others. Despite his kindly, humble old-man appearance, he had a booming, commanding voice that knocked people on their asses. This night seemed different. There was something in the air, perhaps it was because he forgot to take his meds so he was feeling a little loopy, or perhaps it was because there was only a few people in the bar. It'd been like this for a few days now, were people done with drinking their sorrows away? That's a depressing thought, certainly one to drive a man to drinking. He began to have thoughts of closing up early for the night. . . or for good. For someone of his age and experience, he should be doing something more. But he held interest in little else other than providing a service for people. Maybe he could dress up in tights and wear his underwear on the outside of his raggedy costume. "Ha." The outburst caused him to have a coughing fit - damn, he's seriously getting old. Where had the time went? He remembered as a kid during the early 19th century, he never got sick. Or was it the 17th century? He could never tell anymore. The fit ceased, and he was glad to get back to polishing glasses. Now if only there were new customers. . .