It was a bitter winter evening in New York the night I met Rufus. An unpleasant, biting wind, the kind that sends a chill right to your bone marrow, had blown in a cold, sinister fog, but luckily I wasn't outside. I was sitting at the Magic Hat, a tiny, smoky jazz club renowned for its lack of classy clientele, downing whiskey sours as if they were out of fashion. The bitterness of whiskey had always made me wince, not that I cared about the taste of the damn things, as long as I filled my bloodstream with some sort of alcohol, it kept me away from reality for another 30 minutes. A combination of a bad week and terrible weather can drive a guy to find any kind of numbing anesthetic nearby, even overpriced crap like whiskey. I slammed another $5 on the counter and ordered my fifth that evening. I could tell the bartender didn't like giving it to me, but he also knew that if I continued like this I would pay his monthly rent, so he poured me another Scotch Demon into a glass, put two ice cubes in the drink, sighed and gave it to me. he offered. I thanked him and took a sip. Recovering from my bitterness, I noticed that a new boy had entered. He was a tall, skinny guy, about six feet tall, with brown hair and blue eyes, and he was smiling like a damn clown. He took off his long black leather coat and hung it on the bar stool which he then sat on. God, I hate it. You're trying to have a good time, drowning your memories in a decidedly cheesy place like The Magic Hat, when some cheerful bastard comes along with a face like he's just won the lottery. The son of a bitch nodded to the bartender and ordered champagne for everyone. What a philanthropist. I downed my drink and slammed the glass on the table. I hadn't gone... halfway down the paper... on me!”“Aha, maybe you think so, but I assure you, this little dictaphone,” I pulled out the dictaphone I had activated behind me earlier, “I caught every word. And it's also of excellent quality; you can really hear the intent behind the voice. "Rufus made another run for the door. I pulled out my gun and shot him in the leg. He fell to the ground like a wounded gazelle. I came over and grabbed him by the collar. “Come on, okay ? Looks like both of our luck has changed today, too bad for you that now I'm the one who has to drink champagne, huh?” I dragged him to the bar and downed his second untouched glass. “And you know what, Rufus; This stuff tastes so much better when you've earned it.” I dragged him out of the bar. The weather was still terrible, the fog was still thick, but the taste of champagne on the tongue now made up for it all.