A headache was brewing in Dakota's temples thanks to the scruffy man sitting across from him. They were meant to be in the middle of a conversation about his wayward brother's spending habits. Instead, Jesse was trying to make eyes at every woman that walked by them. Dakota picked at the edge of the band aid still wrapped around his thumb. The skin around it was sore from his constant poking.

"Jesse, she came in with two kids and her husband. I think you can assume she isn't interested," Dakota drawled. He shoved his fork into his chocolate raspberry tart.

"You never know, she might..." Jesse started to argue. The rest of his words died on his tongue when he saw the glare on Dakota's face. "You're right. Married is off limits."

The waitress set the bill on the table between them and backed away slowly. Either she was hoping for a date with the man who'd been eyeing up every woman all night, or she was waiting for a generous tip. Dakota hoped it was the latter but didn't want to deal with her either way. He started to push the bill towards Jesse but thought better of it and added his card to the bill.

"Do you even have enough to cover your rent?" Dakota sighed.

"I have a few side gigs that are about to pay out, don't you worry about me," Jesse told him. The tall brunette leaned back in his chair so it balanced on the back legs. He crossed his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Just you watch. In a week I'll be living my best life."

The careless smile on his face filled Dakota with dread. Somehow his younger brother had remained his problem even after they'd both reached adulthood. Their parents had never been neglectful so it wasn't as if he had grown up unsupervised. He couldn't think of a single moment either of them had been led astray. Maybe it was just the fate of the younger sibling.

"Or, here's a crazy thought, you could come work with me until you get back on your feet," Dakota offered. It was only the third time he'd outright made the offer to Jesse, but it was always an unspoken rule. Dakota would always be there waiting to help those he loved.

Jesse shook his head quickly. "And walk around like one of your goons? No thanks." He stood once the check had been returned and straightened his jacket.

Dakota followed suit and pulled Jesse into a hug. "Please take care of yourself, Jesse," he muttered into his ear. "Stop making me worry. I can't afford the therapy bills forever."

"Like hell you can't," Jesse said with a laugh. He hooked an arm around Dakota's shoulder and tugged him away.

On their way out, Dakota recognized a familiar voice, slurred as it was. He stopped Jesse and looked over his shoulder at the woman slumped over the bar counter. The low back of her black dress revealed her back down to just below her shoulder blades. She wasn't quite yelling at the bartender but she wasn't being the least bit quiet.

"I gave him such a big discount, it's ridiculous. Yeah I would have done it if I'd known he was in a relationship... probably," she drawled. The ice in her empty glass clattered against each other. A single drop of amber liquid fell onto the wood when she tipped it. "Do you think she's probably really pretty? Like so pretty? Be honest the most ever."

Jesse took a step towards her. "Ok that's definitely a helpless damsel and those are the best to save," he said with excitement. He was stopped by Dakota's outreached arm.

"She might be a damsel, but unfortunately for you she already has someone to look out for her," Dakota told him. "Call a ride home and send me the bill."

"Are you kidding me? Do you actually know her?" he scoffed. It took some convincing and a condensed version of the train story before Jesse left the restaurant.

In all that time, Mariana had never stopped mumbling to the bartender. He was looking around hoping to meet someone else's eyes. Sooner or later a manager would make a grand entrance and tuck the drunk into a car to get her home. Instead, he locked eyes with Dakota who was taking the seat next to Mariana.

"Well would you look at that, she exists off the train," Dakota teased.

Mariana lifted her head from the crook of her elbow and squinted at him. Her eyes slowly dragged over to him and looked over his face. A stream of names tumbled from her lips. "Are you that one weird guy from the train? Creepy guy."

Dakota laughed and waved his hand slowly in front of her eyes. "No, close but not quite. Remember, Dakota?" he asked. The bartender scooted closer to glare at him. "I swear I know her. I just want to take her back to her hotel. You can take my name if you want a paper trail." The man did end up taking down his information, muttering about not being paid enough.

Suddenly, Mariana lifted her finger and pointed at Dakota's face. "Angry typer!!" she chirped. The barstool wobbled as she leaned towards him. "Your forehead frowns look even worse now."

"How kind of you to point that out," Dakota muttered, pushing her hand back to the counter. He eyed her half empty drink. The way she was gently swaying side to side had him on edge, ready to reach a hand out to catch her any second. He scooted his seat closer and she placed a hand on his shoulder. It seemed to steady her a bit.

Mariana took a deep breath and polished off her drink. "I'm sorry, Renata."

"Dakota," he corrected quickly.

"Right, Devito," she mumbled. "I was just thinking about how guys, suck. Like they suck the soul right out of you. One minute you're doing them a favor the next it turns out they were just stringing you along."

The hand on his shoulder started to shake and he covered it with his own. It slipped out of his immediately. A moment later he was stopping her from flagging down the bartender for another drink. "I don't think the cure is at the bottom of a bottle."

"That is the most cliche thing you could have said. What's next, the fish in the tea? She? Dammit, sea," she spat out. Her cheeks puffed with the effort of getting the words out. A glass was pushed into her hand and she almost choked at the cold water that sloshed over her lips and chin. She looked accusingly at Dakota.

He shrugged and slid the bartender his credit card. Before he could grab it though, Mariana snatched it away and threw it back at him.

"Just who do you think you are? I can handle myself, buckaroo," she snapped, though the words slurred together heavily. "I don't need you to bail me out of trouble. Got it?"

"Can you even walk?" he asked softly.

Mariana planted her heeled shoes on the lowest footrest of the stool. It was a surprisingly stable stance. "I can walk just fine, see." She gestured at her steady legs. "I know how to handle my drink." She stepped off the stool to the ground.