<em>"Billy" - Dean Logan - 11:30pm - Basement Lounge</em><br/><br/>Dean looked up in surprise as the bartender announced his birthday. He hung his head, blushing a bit. He didn't like being the focus of attention. He preferred to just slink into the shadows, go unnoticed, a quiet observer. Now everyone in the room was looking at him.<br/><br/>"Go on through there," Doc motioned towards the west wall, "knock on the door to the left.  That's the bosses office.  He needs to square you away before anything else.  Capische?" Dean nodded, nothing but a slight, quiet grunt as he was at a loss for words, and completely taken aback as the man suddenly gave him a slug on the arm. "Go on through there, knock on the door to the left.  That's the bosses office.  He needs to square you away before anything else.  Capische?"<br/><br/>The man's smile was certainly warm and genuine, but Dean wasn't sure he liked it. Not right now, at least. He snatched his ID back, stuffing it into his wallet, before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.<br/><br/>"Thanks," he said quietly, though not exactly gratefully. In addition to the men entering from the floor above, there were a pair of women sitting by the bar, smiling and looking at him. Too many eyes, too many people smiling at him as if they knew him, as if they were all pals. Maybe he shouldn't have come here. Maybe this was just like the town, everyone changing their masks for new ones.<br/><br/>He hurried forward to the office door, knocking on it. "Enter" a man called from the other side. He stepped in, seeing this older man shifting through some papers. The office smelled like a cigar box and cheap whiskey soaked in dust. "Close the door, have a seat" the older man didn't even look up at Dean. He did as he was told, pulling a chair back, sitting in it. Why was he nervous? It felt like a job interview. Is this what his old man did down here? Other than getting drunk and checking out boobs, of course.