Jackson stepped into the dimly lit bar, the familiar scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure sitting at the far end of the bar—Matthew Martins.
Despite the tension that had simmered between them during their previous encounter, Jackson felt a strange sense of relief wash over him at the sight of Matthew. He approached cautiously, taking a seat on the stool beside him.
"Matthew," Jackson greeted, his tone cautious but civil. "Fancy seeing you here."
Matthew turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "Jackson. What brings you here?"
Jackson shrugged, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. What about you?"
Matthew took
