Achilles' Point of View:
I went to the bar with Carlos. It was a little far from the hospital, but still a decent place to sit down and have a conversation. The smell of cigarettes, stale beer and whiskey hit my nose as soon as I entered, sending me into an instant state of relief.
"Two beers, please," Carlos said to the bartender as we sat down in front of the counter.
Apparently, Carlos had also made sure that no paparazzi could spot us as this place was a little secluded. If he wasn't here, I probably would make headlines everyday—and not for good things.
The man nodded, and started mixing drinks. I looked over at Carlos who exhaled as he pushed one of the glasses toward me.
"You must be tired."
"Yeah, well," I picked it up. "It's not like there's anything else to do."
"Hmm," He agreed as we took a sip.
