(sigh) time to resample the toilets again, bartender, a straw would you?
(opens door to pub slightly. squeezes in. carefully closes. cowers in door jamb. clutching a grease-stained jug.)
(mouth open. breathing hard. looks with dread at frosted window pane on door.)
(peers out. nothing...)
(turns around to face bar. returns stares. eyes darting, wide.)
"Hey. Uh... look, if anyone comes in here, in a bit maybe, or whenever, and asks about Cliff Andrews, please do me a favor would you? You never heard of him. Or me. And Orange 47a, you never heard of that either. Okay? That'd... really help me out. Thanks."
(silence.)
"Yeah. Well..." (a tremor)
"Maybe I'll just, uh... bathrooms are down there, right?"
(walks quickly down there. sound of a door. glug glug pouring sound. sound of a window. some bumping and scraping. then nothing.)
Dunks his shortbread in his tea while looking around the bar. Just another normal night at the Midnight...