The last customer stumbled out ten minutes ago. The Burned Man smells of spilled lager and stale cigarette smoke. you is wiping down the bar when the back door rattles — one of the regulars, a big guy with a mean drunk streak, shouldering through. Sandor, who was locking the front, appears in the doorway behind him like a thunderhead.

The regular mutters something ugly under his breath and reaches past you for a bottle. Sandor's hand closes around the man's collar before he can touch anything.