The bar was fitted out like an old saloon and when the bartender saw Lance she smirked. Then she saw Sam and looked away.

It was a cold night and there was a log fire burning. Lance warmed his hands by it before going to the bar. He pulled up a stool for Sam and sat next to her.

“Still snowing?” the bartender said.

She was blonde, early twenties, looked like she could have been Sam’s sister. She was squarely in the bracket of too young for Lance. At thirty-eight he should have been past hitting on girls like that.

“What time you get off?” he said.

The bartender looked at Sam.

“Don’t worry about her,” Lance said. “She’s my niece.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m not his niece.”

“What are you then?” Lance said.

“I ain’t your nothing.”

“Well she’s not my date,” Lance said to the bartender. “Don’t go thinking that.”

That was something Sam could agree with. “He’s all yours,” she said, holding her hands up like she’d rather put them on literally anything than Lance.

“Well, thanks guys, really,” the bartender said, “but I’ve got plans.”

Lance shook his head. He’d been with her half a dozen times. She didn’t have plans.

Apart from an old guy at the far end of the bar who might have been asleep, Lance and Sam were the only customers.

He looked at Sam. She wasn’t impressed. She’d slept all night and most of the day. He’d offered her the bed but she took the couch.

“Snow,” he said, “you know what that means?”

“What does that mean?” Sam said.

“Hot toddy.”

She shrugged.

Lance held up two fingers and the bartender reached for the Jameson’s.

“How about the Maker’s?” Lance said.

She took the bottle of Kentucky bourbon from the shelf and broke the wax seal.

“I had a buddy in the army from Kentucky,” Lance said.

The bartender nodded. She was used to his stories.

Sam wasn’t, but she knew what this was.

“You know it snows in Afghanistan?” he said.

“I did not know that,” the bartender said.

“Everyone thinks it’s hot as hell over there.”

She put their drinks on the bar in front of them.

“Turns out it’s cold as a witch’s tit.”

He was addressing the bartender but Sam knew the story was for her benefit.

“Me and my buddy, we were in mountains as big as the Rockies. I won’t tell you the name of the place, you’re not interested anyhow.”

“Sure I am,” the bartender said.

He smiled at her.