The bar was filled with ideal chatter, it was filling up by the hour and soon the chatter would get much more noticeable. A waitress darted between tables, carefully balancing a tray of beer bottles with her dominant hand. She then set down that tray and removed each of the bottles from it, placing them on a table full of occupants who didn't give her so much as a smile, they were too preoccupied in their chatter. 

Ray Villarreal couldn't hear their words over the sounds of bar even from his spot only several feet from the group. Music blared throughout the establishment, some classic rock radio which played only ancient songs from long dead rockstars. Ray had been watching the waitress and  her work for no reason other than boredom, but it was the good kind of a boredom, the kind one was almost delighted to be dwelling in. He sat silent in a booth, a lit cigar resting on an ashtray near his muscular form. A half filled glass of whiskey next to it.

He had drawn a few glares from the patrons when he lit the ancient bundle of tobacco leaf, but no one tried to persuade him from it. Even if they did try then he would have ignored them, he was the only one inhaling the toxic fumes, he wasn't blowing it in anyone's faces or lighting the drapes on fire. He rose the Cuban creation to his lips and inhaled it, the end flames lighting as he did so, almost in sync the [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v--IqqusnNQ]next song[/url] on the radio station came on. One of the patrons loudly requested that the barkeep 'turn that shit up'.

[i]It's a god-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair[/i]

Ray's eyes drifted back to the waitress, one of the men she had just served had planted a hand on her backside which drew a glare from the girl. The customer smirked at her with a drunken smile, he removed his hand from her and brought it to the bottle she had placed down for him. With that she moved back towards the bar, the bartender already reading more orders, a light brown stain on his otherwise clean apron. Ray pulled the cigar from his mouth and dabbed it over the ashtray as he did so the bar's doors came open. A single man entered the building, a dark blue monkey suit on him, sunglasses covering his eyes, a black briefcase in his right hand. This was Ray's contact.

[i]Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go[/i]

The man approached Ray's booth, he regarded Ray with a simply nod which was returned. No smile, no laugh, not even a handshake. The stranger loudly glanced downwards at the opposite side of the booth where Ray's size 12 boots currently occupied the seat. With a long blink he put his feet down, the man wiped off the seat before he sat in it, waving away the smoke from the cigar as he took a seat. An electric guitar blared over the radio as words were spoken.

"He heard what you did. He was very pleased to see that it went off with a hitch." Ray's contact said quietly, just loud enough for Ray to hear. He was speaking of a Ray's previous work of wiping a pathetic drug dealer off the red planet. The man began to move the briefcase onto the table but was stopped by a boot striking him in the shin.

"Never hand a briefcase over in public like that, place it under the table and leave it." Ray replied, his words stern, his gesture surprising the man. But he did as was requested, it would have been an idiotic move to openly hand over the payment in front of many wandering eyes. He always assumed at least one person in any of these establishments was a narc.

"Now, tell him if he needs me again then he knows how to contact me. My price only increases with more work, but I'm sure he'd understand." Ray added as he grasped the cigar once more, his eyes drifting back towards the waitress, a smirk on his own face as he put his foot around the briefcase. The man who had dropped it off left without another noise. The song hit its climax as he stepped back out of the door.

[i]Is there life on Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars?[/i]