Say perchance that:
The moon was in LIBRA; at a quiet, low-key bar in Long Beach, Jack sits at a small circular table, Hennessey cupped in both hands.
you're a lonely man, Jack Bristow. you're happier when alone, more comfortable by yourself. you drive the extra forty minutes to come to a bar where you're unlikely to run into an acquaintance. your heart: boom-boom. sipping on your cognac, staring at everyone else, you think. the lights strung beside the bar are interesting, blue, dim; the waitress must enjoy her job. you think about SD-6. boom-boom. you make good money to keep the secrets you do, retain your knowledge, maintain your alliance. in a disturbing way, you actually feel that what you do does benefit humanity. boom-boom.
as the attractive red-head walks by, you lift your index finger, requesting another. you watch her every move as she returns to the bartender, glances back over her shoulder, realizes you're watching her, turns back around. boom-boom. she must feel sorry for you. the way you come in here ever-so-often, avoiding Sydney.
she returns, sets the sniffer on the table. boom-boom. she smiles sympathetically and leaves. Sydney. boom-boom. Ah, Sydney. how you wish things were different; how you're glad things are the same. boom-boom. you wish. you sip. those days when the two of you knew each other. boom-boom. well, you never really knew each other, but she thought you did. boom-boom. those pre-adolescent years, when everything was fair and just. boom-boom. those pictures were taken. boom-boom boom-boom. she trusted you as her father. boom-boom. you treated her as a daughter. boom-boom boom-boom boom-boom.
Now it's just you, peering out from your lonely oblivion at an unfamiliar woman. boom-boom boom-boom. you sip. boom-boom. you look up again at the blue light at the bar. boom-boom. blue. an adequate color. you think about going home. cold, lonely, depressing home. boom-boom. maybe you should go; you much prefer it here. you sip. what was this place called again? no matter. the man at the piano is playing "Canadian Jazz". boom-boom. you snicker to yourself; Canadian jazz? 11:43 pm. you sip, this time finishing it off. boom-boom. your heart at a normal pace, you gather your things and throw down a fifty.