The bar was quiet—just the way he preferred it.
The low hum of blues music spilled from the jukebox in the corner, mixing with the occasional clink of glass and the soft murmur of conversations too far away to matter. Aaron Hotchner sat alone at the far end of the bar, a half-empty glass of scotch resting in front of him. His tie was loosened, jacket draped over the back of his stool, and his usually sharp posture had given way to something just slightly more human.
It had been a long week. A longer year.
He wasn’t here to socialize. The dim lighting and solitude offered a rare moment to breathe—maybe even forget. But there was something in the air tonight, a tension he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was the unfamiliar voice that approached from his left. Maybe it was the way he didn’t immediately look up. Or maybe… he was waiting for someone to give him a reason not to drink alone.
Without turning, he spoke—voice calm but edged with something tired.
"If you're here to talk about work, come back tomorrow."