What Happened at the Bar

It was Christmas Eve, but one couldn't tell by looking at Jesse McCree. Presently he was sitting at a dusty old bar, the only bar that had been open on such a night, slowly sipping a glass of whiskey. The bartender, who was a middle-aged man with graying brown hair, a grotesque mustache, and furrowed skin, looked as decrepit as his bar. With nothing else to do he was currently half-heartedly scrubbing dirty-looking glasses with a rag that looked like it hadn't been washed in the last decade.

Normally Jesse wouldn't patron such an establishment, but desperation and self-pity had lead him to push aside his usual reservations. He hated spending Christmas alone, as it always reminded him of all the people he had loved and lost. So like his last few Christmas Eve's, Jesse had decided to drown his sorrows in whatever alcohol he could find. Unfortunately that alcohol was a rather bland whiskey that tasted suspiciously like it had been watered down. Sighing he swallowed the last of his whiskey and set the glass back on the dusty countertop. "Another?"The bartender asked in a scratchy voice.

In response McCree simply produced more money. As he reached beneath the counter, the bartender gave him a quick smile that revealed his few remaining yellow teeth. Without any kind of fancy flourish, he pulled out the bottle and poured the brownish liquid into McCree's glass. The cowboy received his drink with little enthusiasm. After eyeing it for a moment he raised the glass to his lips and swallowed a large mouthful. When Jesse set the glass down again, he finally spoke, "Mind if I have a smoke?"

"Doesn't bother me."the bartender replied with a shrug. With a small smile, Jesse produced a cigar and a lighter from his pocket. After placing the cigar between his lips, he flicked the lighter and lifted it the end of his cigar. Then he pocketed the lighter again. Jesse drew in the smoke letting it fill his lungs before exhaling it to form a whirling cloud above him. He knew he should give the unhealthy habit up. Everyone he'd been close with had told him to: Ana, Jack, Genji, Moira, Angela, Ashe, Reinhardt, Torb, and even Gabe had sworn at him from time to time. But the truth was nothing calmed McCree like tobacco, nothing eased the pain of being alone quite so well. It was one thing to give it up when you were surrounded by friends, but another thing entirely to do it when there was no one else around.

It was just as this unbearable loneliness began to creep up on him again that a young woman appeared from out of the shadows of the poorly lit bar. She was short and slim with medium brown skin, bright eyes, and a half-shaved head. The other half had long dark hair streaked with bright purple. Without looking up from his tarnished glasses, the bartender addressed her. "Didn't realize you were still here."

The woman looked disdainfully at him and shot back, "Your vino es terrible. Is your tequila any better?"

"Well, I haven't had any complaints about it so far."the barkeep retorted looking annoyed.

"Alright I'll try some then."she said. Then she turned her attention from the old man and smiled impishly at Jesse. "Hola, vaquero. ¿Comó esta?"

"I've been better."he replied not really in the mood for conversation.

"Habla español, eh?"she said sounding impressed.

"Not really. Just bits and pieces."admitted McCree.

"That's a shame."the woman said. Then she reached for her tequila shot and quickly downed it. Upon swallowing her face scrunched up in disgust. "Ay ay ay, are all your bebidas watered down?"she asked the bartender.

"My booze ain't watered down. I serve it in the same condition in which I bought it!"exclaimed the offended looking bartender.

"Oh, sure, of course you do."the little spitfire returned.