Nate's bar was closed to the public, but the back room was open.
The chairs were down from their tables. The bourbon was on its usual shelf. Julian had already poured himself a glass. Nate was behind the bar, mixing his gin with tonic, the bottle sweating in his hand. Gilbert sat at the table with a whiskey he hadn't touched yet, his fingers loose around the glass, his shoulders still carrying something from the night before.
Franz arrived last. The door unlocked, the way it always was for the brotherhood. He'd left Arianne at home with the twins.
He took the chair across from Gilbert. Nate slid a glass toward him without asking what he wanted.
"Arianne's not coming," Franz said.
Julian looked up. "Still dealing with last night?"
"She's fine. She wanted a quiet night with the twins. They need normalcy after the past few days."
"You needed normalcy," Gilbert said. "Your wife fought five men in a parking lot."
