The lady bartender slid the glass expertly into his hand. He took a drink, and found the beverage to be almost exactly how he perferred it. Enough Cognac to balance the Hpnotiq, but not too much at all. "Apparently I'm not the only one who has a little skills." Mike said in a relaxed tone. He could sense the hesitation coming from her, so he paused a second to survey the bar. A typical day, nothing extraordinary happening. The bartender was fiddling with a silver and pearl pendant, it seemed like it might be important to her.

"You new here? I come here a lot, and usually Carl or Alex are at the bar. Not that I'm complaining or anythi-" Just then, a cold, dark, shiver went down Mike's spine. Almost as if someone ealked over his grave. He dropped his glass, but caught it in his left hand. Years on the flight line had honed his reflexes, but not enough to keep himself from spilling some of the expertly poured beverage. Reeaal smooth, jackass.

"Damn, I'm sorry. Let me clean this up." Mike then proceeded to use some of the napkins at the bar to mop up the beverage form the bar. The smell of the beverage seemed a little off somehow, but Mike could not put his hand on it. Perhaps it was nothing.