There's been a lot of excitement since Eddie's gotten here - newfound freedom, exploring the city, the invasion, the Militia investigation, parties, meeting new people. That's all wearing a little thin, right now. He's settling into the routine of seeing all this fantastic, powerful, amazing stuff going on, all round him, while working this less-than-glamorous new job, trying his darnedest to stay away from old habits.

He isn't much of a drinking sort, but he wants to be around a crowd he can pretend he's a part of without needing to invest much into the interaction, so he's hanging out here. By himself in a booth, being quiet, reading through a stack of carefully folded, old newspapers and occasionally sipping a beer that's almost entirely just an excuse to keep this seat.

This is a nice bar. He could be bringing in enough money to fit right in at places like this and better, if he let himself play in this city. That's a bad plan. He keeps reminding himself that, as he flips through the papers for the crime reports and crossword puzzles, and drums his fingers on the table.