Vincent entered the saloon, the door swinging shut behind him as he scanned the room. The dimly lit interior was a stark contrast to the crisp order of his office. Soldiers filled the space, their laughter and chatter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the sounds of a card game in the corner. It was a place of release, where the burdens of command could be temporarily forgotten. But not for everyone.
He spotted Harper sitting at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of him. His shoulders were slumped, his gaze fixed on the drink as if it held the answers to questions he couldn't voice. Vincent moved toward him, weaving through the tables until he reached the bar. Without a word, he took a seat on the stool next to Harper, nodding to the bartender. "Whiskey, neat."
The bartender poured the drink, setting it down in front of Vincent, who picked it up but didn't immediately drink. Instead, he glanced at Harper, who still stared down at his own glass.
