Finally, he lights his smoke and takes a deep drag. Shit, what a night. The shot glass meets a nearby table's surface. He leaves it there, rubs the space above his lip with the side of his hand, and lets out a line of smoke.

"Hey," he tells the lady with the dark hair and the ridiculous top. The Samcro reaper stands out on the back of his kutte and in this light, his sneakers look even more bright white than normal. He stuffs a hand into one of his pockets. "What place is this?"

There's only a million places to grab a drink between San Leandro and Charming and even though it's never been a stated goal that he's gotta visit them all, he's no stranger to most of them.