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"Oh."

He reappeared around the corner, wiping his hands on the towel he always seemed to have slung over one shoulder. He smiled at Shi, oblivious to the fact that Nolah had not to gracefully fallen to the ground. He was about to respond to her loud farewell before he realized where she was. He hurried around the bar and helped her up, his eyes ridden with worry.

"Are you all right?" He looked around for what she has fallen over and discovered the fallen barstool. He turned to the stool and put his hands on his hips. "Silly barstool. I know you love her, but you can't have her. She's mine," he scolded it half-jokingly. He picked up the stool and pushed it in closer to the bar so it couldn't trip anyone again. "There."

He turned around, picking the money up off the counter and slipping it back into her hand. "My barstools sometimes let their hearts get in the way of their heads. You shouldn't have to pay for a drink you made and drank yourself, especially since this here stool tripped you on your way out. So here. Take this back."

He gave her a crooked grin.

Tank thought about that for a brief moment. "Yeah," he said at last. "Everything's okay." He smiled and then walked back behind the bar. He could see that Nolah appeared to be going to sleep on him, so he figured he'd best be quiet. He didn't say anything about her newfound limp, as she seemed a bit uncomfortable about it. He stooped down and scooped a bunch of ice out of the bin. Putting it in a plastic bag and then wrapping it in a paper towel, he walked back around and handed it to her.

"I'm sorry my barstool hurt you," he told her, as if he was apologizing on the behalf of a smally child. "Sometimes it just doesn't think before it acts."

He was starting to develop a headache, and he never got headaches unless his mind was trying to remember something long forgotten. He mentally told himself to stay in the present, because going back in time would solve nothing. Yet, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen Christophe somewhere before, and that he knew why the kid has attacked him...

He shrugged. "I won't stop you from leaving, because that's not my place, but nothing's wrong, I swear it," he lied. "And anyways, I think you look like you need sleep a hell of a lot more than I do. I have to admit that I don't much fancy sleep. Gets me thinking too much."

He moved away from her and went behind the counter, once again beginning the ritual of tidying up and making things look nice. It was a tireless job, and it had to be done every second of every day, but it was necessary. Tank could remember a customer, oh, sorry, they aren't called customers anymore, they're called "guests", that came in and tol him that he was obssessive compulsive about cleaning the bar. Tank had smiled and said, "It's not OCD. It's good business ethic," and that had been that.

He glanced at Nolah over his shoulder as she battled against unconsciousness. He silently decided that if she were to try to walk back to the Inn, she'd fall asleep standing up. But, as he has said beforehand, it wasn't is place to tell her what to do. He's seen drunks stumble out of the place barely able to say their own names and he hadn't stopped them. This was no different.

Biting his lip, Christophe entered, hesitant and unsure as to what would happen. He glanced everywhere but the counter: at Nolah standing uncomfortabely, Shi sitting comfortabely, and finally at the man behind the counter.

Seeing him, and knowing what his apperance was supposed to be, Christophe was not surprised. He didn't even feel anything until he walked forward to come closer to the mysterious man. "I'm sorry for attacking you Tank, I don't know what came over me," he said, looking Tank in the eyes. Then, he felt a shooting pain lace through his head, and knew where this man fit in his past.

Wanting to faint, attack him, and bow at his feet-- all at the same time; Christophe simply smiled and asked if he was still allowed and could have a stiff drink.