Once again he was sitting on a stool before the young bartender.

"We meet again," the young man said in a humorous tone. "Vodka? I'm guessing."

"Yeah," he said, hints of screams for help lingering off his tongue.

As the bartender prepared his drink, he attempted at a conversation. "So, what's your name?"

The young man stared at the glass cup just given to him.

"Indigo..."