Adam watched his friend from the safe distance of the bar, safe observation distance. He could tell Booker was struggling, and he knew him well enough to know when he was starting to get into a slump. He frowned as Booker literally slumped against the payphone booth wall and remained there looking like an old, beaten fighting dog.

He finished off the last gulp of a whiskey he had ordered earlier and he pushed himself up to stand. Adam moved in a wavering line toward the door, not to leave but to retrieve his trench coat. With a momentary struggle getting his arms into the sleeves, he snapped the high collar up into place and moved over to the booth and began pulling Booker out with a supportive arm under the other man's arms, around his friend's back.

"We don't haves to go home yet if don' wanna." Adam helped Booker toward the door, hoping some fresh air would liven them both up some. That's when Adam got a, so he thought, brilliant idea. "Elizabeth'd still be workin." She was a waitress at one of those posh establishments uptown, some rich man named Loki owned it. It was a gentleman's club, where the waitresses wore the pleasure of Loki's whims and always looked amazing for it. Booker and Adam had gone there on a case late last year and this one waitress had taken an interest in Booker. Booker didn't seem to think so, but Adam saw the way she looked at him.