“Drink?” The bartender asked a well-dressed man walking up to the bar area right as Toby was about to continue his story. Given that the dude certainly looked like he could afford Toby’s services even as his pricey duds hardly looked ready for the backcountry, Toby got off his stool and moved away from the eager duo.
“Not yet. I’m meeting someone.” The guy had an East Coast accent with a tone that said he was used to being listened to. He looked around, distracted, eyes scanning right past Toby. Typical. Thousand-dollar suit and not the sense of a reindeer.