| An Intro
This is my first bif excursion from the first person. Does this work as an intro? Any comments welcome.
Blake sat perched over the bar like a weeping willow his attention lost deep in the whirling brown depths of his third glass of Jim Beam. He stopped swirling the glass and drained it, motioning to Pat the bartender for a refill. It was just past two o’clock and it was a slow day in Hogan’s, Blake was the only customer but most afternoons he drank enough for three.
“Aren’t you working tonight?” Pat asked, raising an eyebrow.
Blake shrugged and began flicking idly through a newspaper he took from a pile at the end of the bar. Pat snorted and returned his attention to the snooker he had been watching on the bar’s wide screen television. It was a recent aquisition and one Pat was proud of. He often told the other regulars it was Blake’s bourbon intake that helped him make the payments.
Hogan’s was a small bar, intimate, all mahogany and brass fittings and old photographs of Glasgow hung on the walls wherever space could be found, photos that showed Glasgow in its prime, the years of the Tabacco lords and ship building. It was around that time that Pat’s grandfather, Sean, had opened the first Hogan’s. It had never stayed in the same location but Pat always said the pub retained its soul wherever it was housed, he even claimed that one night clearing up he had seen the ghost of Sean at the bar filling a pint swearing loudly for someone to get some sawdust for the vomit. Most just humoured Pat with a smile. Pat had never bothered to tell Blake, he knew he would just recieve a sneer for his time.
“How’s the job going anyway Blakey?” Pat asked, strolling up the bar to fill the man’s glass yet again.
“How’d you you think Pat? I drive a fucking Volvo around the city centre to make sure properties are secure from junkies trying to get in and nicking pencils and drunks pissing their names on the doormats. You can say it’s just great, the job of my dreams,” Blake replied dismissively.
Pat placed the glass down in front of him and leaned in close, his beady eyes narrowed to slits.
“My sister pulled a whole lotta fucking strings to get you that. Don’t fuck it up,” his voice was harsh like steel wool.
“Sorry man, I’ve just seen better days,” Blake replied, “I appreciate the all help you’ve given. Honest. Anything I can do remember..”
“What you can do is call that your last bourbon and the coffee’s on the house, “ Pat smiled , “ Remember you’ce to be driving that Volvo in a few hours.”
Blake nodded with a small smile and draining his glass. | 
