Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evening for Ana Thompson didn't end at Benny's Burgers though. After ensuring she had enough food in her belly, Ana would walk herself over to the local bar down the block.
Perhaps the more accurate term for this type of establishment would be a hole in the wall. It was the type of rundown pub that only locals would frequent, any out of towners would be too put off upon viewing its disheveled exterior ever to venture inward.
Here, sitting alone at the bar, Ana did her best people watching. She didn't crowd gaze to pass judgment, no, who was she to critique anyone's life choices while she sat isolated. But, she long ago realized that no one whose life was easy drank regularly, and everyone who drank regularly had their fair share of stories to divulge.
And, so, she sat and watched the underside of Hawkins, Indiana unfold before her in a haze of smoke, alcohol and overheard conversations.
It was at the same bar that Earl and Henry, who had seen her become fast friends with Benny, had, after a few drinks, offered to take her out on their fishing boat. While Ana was a fair weather fan of fishing, she figured it best to steer clear of those particular old geezers and invented an excuse of being 'too busy' to deter their advances. It's not that they were terrible guys per se, they were two older men who had been married for far too long to women they had grown to despise, and it was just easier to avoid that situation at all costs.
No, the irregular patron that caught Ana's attention most was the one, and only, police Chief Jim Hopper.
While Ana visited this particular watering hole with strategic consistency, always partaking in two beers, never more never less; Hopper seemed to visit only when the fancy hit him; drinking hard liquor to the point where any sensible person would show concern, then leaving with whichever local lady seemed the most willing.
This appeared to be a pattern, of which Hawkins residents had grown accustomed to and didn't bat a single eyelash at. Ana found it strange that an entire county would so comfortable with a police chief who so blatantly flaunted both his alcoholism and promiscuity but, again, chopped it up to Hawkins being a small town with minimal issues that would require the utmost of law enforcement's attention.
She once inquired about the chief's extracurricular activities to Benny and was brushed off with a simple: "Hopper's been through a lot," which was enough to deter her from probing any further.
However, after a few weeks of seeing this paradigm unfold, and with a loose enough tongue, Ana finally reached the point where should couldn't avoid the subject any further.
On a Tuesday in mid-June, Hopper made the crucial mistake of taking a seat at the bar top near enough to where Ana had chosen to settle for the evening. Through her peripheral vision, she thoroughly appraised the man who seemed to be exceptionally popular among the singles crowd of Hawkins.
James "Jim" Hopper was first and foremost tall, always a plus! He had a beard that was manicured enough to imply he knew the importance of being presentable, but scraggly enough to show that, that was the extent of any shits given. He was broad and walked with undeniable confidence. But, his shoulders drooped just enough to imply that there was a weight upon his shoulders, which no amount of alcohol nor women could permanently lift.
He sat there with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, swirling the ice and liquor around in mindless contemplation, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips when Ana interrupted his mindless stupor with…
"You're a bit of a slut, aren't you?"