'Bar Scene'

The piano man plays softly, calmly, deeply.
I'm sitting and I have a drink in my hand and am starring, mesmerized, as beads of water drip from its edges and fall down and are swallowed by a small square napkin that has salt poured in the center of it so as to keep the drink from sticking to it.
"Nice of you to come," he says, walking up, and I snap back to reality and get up and shake his hand and he pulls me in and hugs me, friendly-like, and he has a good looking girl at his side whom he introduces me to and she smiles and I smile back and he goes on, "Thought you meant the lobby, we were out there for a while, waiting, that's why we're late."
"I left you a message, told you I'd be in the bar."
"Didn't get it. This is fine though, nice place, nice to see you again."
And we're talking and laughing and having drinks and the piano man is playing slowly and calmly and I'm thinking that I would love it, right now, if I could just really sit back and listen.
The girl next to him, I forgot her name to tell you the truth, is talking and as she does she reminds me a lot of another person; has a mouth like her, says the same things she does, acts like her, its odd. And she keeps talking more as she gets drunker and he laughs harder as he has more to drink and it occurs to me that I'm only on my second-no scratch that, second with these two, so I'm on my third- and not that drunk and falling behind in that race very quickly. It strikes me, at some point in our conversation, that he is a bigger drinker, now, then I am, and that's weird because it used to be the other way around and seeing him get trashed in front of me is an odd experience, well, not odd, just different.
But back to the bar scene. That's what this place is actually called, 'Bar Scene', and there is a bright blue electric sign burning those two words into the night in the window across from me. The piano man, when I came in, had a bit of a band with him. They were singing some lounge music and singing a song that I couldn't understand on account of it was in French and I don't speak French. The band has since left, though, and the piano man is lonely, playing lonely songs. I had sat down, when I came in, and waited and the waiting was nice and it gave me some time to reflect and that was nice because I haven't really had time to reflect these days. Then they came and we started drinking because that's what you do when you haven't seen someone for a long while, and we got to talking
Now the girl at his right is talking and she seems to know what she is talking about, and it seems to hit home because she's talking about things that I've been thinking about, some devils and demons, you know, the things that bring you to a place like this.
Then he talks and he says, drunkenly, "I like you, you're not afraid of people, that's why I like you."
And she follows up by saying, drunkenly, "He was talking about this earlier, he's drawn to people who aren't afraid."
I say thanks and realize that I haven't had enough to drink. So I step up the process and they talk more and this girl seems to have a knack of talking about things that remind me of my devils and my demons and that's not sitting well.
"More rounds," And I've upped the ante. Thats what demons do to man.
Soon we're all drunk and wanting to go somewhere else, "Where there's a better atmosphere," and we ask for the bill.
The waiter brings a check and I pay for all of us and start twirling the pen in between my fingers, thinking, drunk, which is bad.
I take out a sugar packet from a holder on the edge of the table, and begin to sketch and scribble a little on it.
"I wish I had crayons," I notice that I said that out loud and they're asking my what I'm talking about. Sometimes things come out when your drunk, not always the way you want them to, not always that clear for the people listening.
"Never mind." I say. "Lets go to another bar scene."