Marco didn't think his life was likely to get any shittier after the last time he went to visit York, but somehow, it did. And what else is a guy to do after having some shitty times besides visit his favorite bartender? Never mind that he was barely tall enough to see over the bar and said bartender was still probably going to refuse him drinks.

Doesn't hurt to try again. He strolls in as if he owns the place and hops up onto a stool, waving a hand to flag York down.

"Hey, I'll take two fingers on the roc--shit, York, what happened to your face?"