INT. BAR - DAY
Joe stands at the bar with a brand new, unopened bottle of whiskey and a shot glass in front of him. Jillian stands to one side, pretending to clean and ignoring Joe.
Joe looks from the bottle to the clock. It’s not quite ten in the morning. He fidgets, looking at his phone, putting it back on the bar. Watching the TV. He looks from the clock to the bottle and back again.
INSERT CU - CLOCK turns 10AM
Joe shrugs and picks up the bottle.
Double digits. Fuck it.
He cracks the seal on the bottle and starts to pour himself a shot.
Hey, Joe - you catch that game last night?
Which one’s that, Jillian?
Oh, hell, I don’t know, who’s your team?
I don’t really have one, Jillian.
He sets down the bottle and regards the shot glass in front of him. He can smell the whiskey from where he’s standing.
Really? Everybody’s got a team. Some of the guys here don’t wear anything but their team colors.
That a fact?
Yep. You know, maybe it’s their kids, or when they were kids that made them that way, but some of these guys bleed for their home team, know what I mean?
I sure do, Jillian.
He picks up the shot and moves like he’s going to knock it back.
Mike intercepts it and takes it away from him, knocking it back himself. Joe watches him without making any protest.
Thank you, Joe. Aahh - you do like the expensive stuff.
He signals Jillian over, pulling out a few bills.
Hey, Jillian - good to see you - yeah, we won’t be needing this anymore, but could you get us some espressos? Double for my friend here, okay?
Jillian nods, relieved to see him, she quickly clears the booze off the bar.
Looks like I made it on time. What caused it this time?
Joe waits for Jillian to deliver their espressos and exit.