The local news on the TV above the bar was muted, but the headline was loud enough:
Leo didn't look up. The voice belonged to Jax, a debt collector who looked like he’d been carved out of granite and bad intentions. He had two shadows behind him, both grinning with the kind of confidence only a baseball bat provides. [S1E8] Issue #108: You Won't Like Him When He's...
"You’re leaving when I say you're leaving," Jax said, slamming a hand onto the table. The water in Leo’s glass jumped. "You look like that guy from the news. The one with the freak problem." The local news on the TV above the
Leo stood alone in the center of the bar. The transformation began to recede, the steel softening back into pale, bruised skin. He felt the familiar, crushing exhaustion pulling at his soul. He looked at the TV again. The news was showing a map of his possible locations. "You’re leaving when I say you're leaving," Jax
The neon sign above the "Lucky Clover" dive bar flickered with a rhythmic, dying buzz that matched the pounding in Leo’s head. Inside, the air was a thick soup of stale beer and cheap tobacco. Leo sat in the corner booth, his knuckles white as he gripped a glass of water. He wasn’t here to drink; he was here to hide.
The bar went silent as the air itself seemed to grow heavy. Jax tried to pull back, but his hand was caught in a grip that felt like a hydraulic press.