<em>"The Kid" - Dean Logan - Basement Lounge, Bar</em><br/><br/>Dean's body trembled, convulsing as he coughed a bit more. He could still feel the bourbon, still smell it, feel the warmth settling in his stomach. Right, next time, don't swallow so much at once. Smaller sips.<br/><br/>Dean shook his head, finally finished with coughing. Doc had just flashed a grin at him, trying to calm him, let him know that things are alright down here. Dean opened his mouth to say something, a sarcastic comment, but just at that moment...<br/><br/>"<strong>Ooooooooooh fuck…</strong>" It was barely audible from down here, but the walls and ceiling of the Gulch certainly carried that scream. Dean looked to the ceiling, a bit in surprise, though no one else seemed to pay any attention. He shook his head. Either way, it saved him from making some comment that was likely to piss Doc off.<br/><br/>He studied Doc for a moment, his smile, and listened to his words. A place for everyone to come and be happy, eh? So they just removed one mask and replaced it with another? Everyone pretending to have a good time? His old school principal was sitting at the end of the bar not six seats away, a married man coming to a whore house, and what was it? For happiness?<br/><br/>Dean wrapped his knuckles against the counter top briefly, looking across the room. The men of varying ages, the ladies in lingerie (the ones still around, at least). He finally looked back to Doc.<br/><br/>"Is this the real you?" He asked. He didn't seem to be trying to make a point. He didn't seem to be sarcastic, or trying to be a smart ass. It was a genuine question. Was Doc, well, Doc?