Starry Night. It’s a 6.

The Bistro was at full capacity just as it pretty much has been since the Gatekeeper’s miraculous resurrection except on this particular evening, Mimi and her spatula-slinging henchman Tom decided to celebrate his return.

Roger’s band was on the compact stage and for a small group did a decent job keeping the individual conversations, dancing feet and the subtle percussion of clinking bottles and glasses from dominating the space, at least it did for everywhere except the half-dark hallway that started at the far end of the bar and continued past the Manager’s Office.

“While everyone’s out there enjoying themselves, I’m sitting at this desk working more hours than it should take – how the hell does this happen… and you guys – Jimi, Johnny, hell any of you staring down from these walls, what the hell, you can’t materialize, pull up the wing backs by the fireplace and keep the Bartender company while she does the books?!”

Denise smiled to herself as she set the ledgers aside and after stretching her stiffening legs, pushed the leather chair away from the desk all the while hearing in her mind Ford, the Café’s resident “Fixer”, in lecture mode about the key to efficiently getting through copious amounts of paperwork being organization; she looked around the office and the sense of wonder that never seemed to leave, humbled, as she knew there was so much more to this place.

Sitting made the Bartender restless and she knew she’d reached her limit of sedentary – she needed movement, needed the outdoors, fresh air, she needed something out there. Denise closed the door to the office, caught sight of Nick on his way out the door, took note of what he was holding and thanked her lucky stars she’d have an evening outside the Bistro; she called over “got a spare helmet?”