The bar was just like any other seedy Brooklyn bar at 1 in the
morning; stale beer, a faint undercurrent of weed, and the quiet sound
of long days being drowned out in shots of whiskey. It wasn’t as crowded
as it has been when Simon got here, and the noise level had stabilized
quite nicely, leaving him alone with all of the other alcoholics and
mistake-makers Brooklyn had to offer.