The barman placed another bourbon in front of him, and set about wiping glasses with his rag. Dzinski lifted the drink and made a silent toast, something about the past, and missed opportunities.
The bells over the door rang, and through the mirror behind the shelves of half-empty bottles, a woman walked in.
Her scent came before her, like horses drawing a carriage. She sat down three stools away. Dzinski watched the bartender sidle over, lean in and prepare her cocktail.
“From the lady,” he said, sliding another in front of Dzinski.
He lifted his glass, this time to possibilities.