Let's Make The Most Of Tonight, Like We're Gonna Die Young // Andy

This atmosphere was what Andy thrived on. There was a lively crowd occupying the bar tonight, all cheering on their favorite riders on the big screens and commenting in unison over the various rides. Near the back, several patrons were enjoying a game or two of pool and he was kept busy at the bar tending to the various requests of the customers of the night. For a small town, Lehigh Valley always seemed to bring him a nice crowd, even through the week days. Good ole country boys kept the place alive, striding in and out of the bar with the rhythms that kept the town alive - the smell of worked and worn leather, the jingle of spurs and buckles, a respectful dip of the hat to a passing stranger or neighbor, and, most dominantly, the talk and the smell of the horses that the life of this rural blip on the map ran their lives around. Without the dust flying because of the horses, Lehigh Valley wouldn't be the bustling little hot spot it was, even if it was only bustling to those that lived their lives here.

For Andy, the valley had been free rehabilitation. He dared not forget his past of drugs and gangs, and it was hard to do such a thing when he kept the tats of the memories on his skin even when there was the option of inking over them for new things. They were a reminder that he couldn't go back, and that was as big a help as anything. He'd stayed clean for a good many years now, and this little business was helping him keep to it now. Old habits had the tendency to die hard, after all, and he didn't want to give them a chance to come back and get under his skin again. Literally and figuratively.

Earning a brief moment of peace from his work, Andy rested his hands against the bar, leaning forward on them to watch one of the riders take the course on a pretty bay horse. It was hard to live here and not be affected by the vibe, so Andy had taken an interest in the animals. He'd made a few friends since settling down in the town and they, of course, owned horses, so he'd began helping out with them on the occasion where it was needed. He had been happy to help offer a hand to do some heavy-duty work like hauling feed in and out of stables and even the more simpler tasks like brushing the horses. In return, he'd gotten a little experience in the saddle, and the rest of his interest was, as they say, history.

He scanned the crowd then, vigilantly keeping his eyes on each of the patrons. If there was one golden rule that couldn't be broken in running and staffing a bar, it was that customer safety was first. That meant cut-offs and sending people home when things got out of hand. And, occasionally, they did. It was to be expected in a town like this. It was homegrown country laws out here. Everyone traded a few friendly insults and sometimes a few fists were thrown. But without it? It wouldn't be home.

Assured that the night's crowd wasn't going to be a handful (they hardly were when the competition on the screens was a good one, although the occasional fight over which rider and horse team was better was to be expected), he turned his attention back to those standing at the bar. "Need a refill?" he asked with a hint of teasing in his voice, noticing a redhead looking at her drink. "You know all you gotta do is ask. I'm pretty sure we've got everything there is that you could ask for here. I'm not in the business of letting these shelves sit empty, after all."