47

Robert stared back at the pair of brown eyes of a young man who looked so intent on killing him. The distance between him and the man was only a circular bar table. The room was dimly lit by a bit of light from the yellow lamp that lit up the lined display of drink bottles.

No one tried to get ahead to speak up. The cold beer in front of them began to warm up, as seen from the melted dew. It didn't even shake the interest of the two men to touch, let alone finish the drink.

"Ryan Gonzalez," Robert muttered, "we finally met in a more relaxed way."

Robert finally broke the silence. The familiar words spoken did not make the young man in front of him relax. Ryan