The bar was a hive for activity. The constant chatting was muffled, but it didn't silence rang through the room a couple seconds later. No one dared to move.
A figure, whose face was masked by a fedora and was almost fully hidden by a long grey trenchcoat, strode through the wooden double doors. Everyone stared at them as they drew out a stool and beckoned to the bartender.
"Usual?" they nodded. The bartender slid a mug across the bar's surface and the mysterious person caught it, cupping a pallid hand around it. They took a sip and finished with a satisfied sigh, placing the mug back on the surface. Another man, dressed in a bright red Hawaiian shirt with khaki shorts, sidled next to him.
"You too?" the other man didn't even acknowledge the other's question or even his prescence and continued to stare ahead;
"So, tell me the story," the second man beckoned to the bartender for a beer. The other shrugged. "What brought 'ya here?" the man in the trenchcoat removed his fedora, revealing smooth yet messy brown hair and bright green eyes. He still didn't look at the guy next to him.
"Wait... Don't tell me. I want to guess-"
"Quit mucking about, Charlie." his voice was coarse. Charlie leaned away a bit, giving the man puppy eyes. "Fine. Stabbed. Ice pick. Done and dusted." they hissed before taking another sip from their mug and slamming it on the table.
"Hang on," Charlie clapped his hands together. "You're the guy who 'solved his own murder', right?" the man was rather taken aback.
"They really say that?" they was a small sparkle of disbelief - in his eye. Charlie shrugged.
"Whats your name, anyway. Never seemed to catch it." he held out a hand.
"Richard. Richard Poole."
Guess this was ok, for how short it is.
I hope so, anyway!
