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Night had spread its wings over the city which seemed to sleep for now. Most houses' lights had died out, the street nearly emptied and even stars couldn't be spotted in the far heaven. There must have been a reason why they decided to reside somewhere else. It was a chilly night and the wind carried the lingering smell of the day's work out the city. Despite the cold Dean only wore a grey t-shirt, ripped at some parts. His eyes were red and fighting the urge to stay open. His already nearly snow white face face was rough and paler from overwork. His black hair were in need of some washing just like his 3.days beard. Dean literary staggered down the street, always slightly evading the coming person. His destination wasn't sure at the moment. However, he suddenly came to a stop. There was a flickering lamp over his head, here and there revealing his dark expression. Although, the light over his head wasn't the one catching his attention. It was the warm glow coming from his right, a restaurant. Dean scratched his head. 'Well, it can't get any worse today! And damn', he scratched his head, 'I need a drink!' With these thoughts he entered the restaurant. He was immediately welcomed by warmness, not only coming from the light itself but also the cheerful people to his sides. Their shouting was deafening and their happiness contagious to the point that Dean managed a smirk. A brief one though, yet enough to lighten him. (Dean: Maybe it was a good idea coming here!) Most of the restaurant's seats were full. Dean's eyes directed forward. The bar's seats were bare. At the bar itself a broad man was standing and cleaning glasses. A wonder his hands even fit in them. Suddenly slow jazz music played from the radio at the windows and the light throughout the restaurant dimmed. With sagged shoulders and dropped head Dean strode towards the bar. As he took his seat the bartender gave him a look. And a quick inspection of the man followed. 'What may I serve you?, sir', he asked and placed the glass, he was just cleaning, down. 'A beer please!' The bartender nodded, took the glass and filled it with beer from the rooster just next to his right. While reaching the beer to Dean, he spoke: 'You must have a hard day today. You look shit and I mean, really shit. I've seen many come and leave this restaurant and never one like you was here!' As Dean took his beer he replied: 'Hahah! Damn I must really look bad. Well, it is what it is. Yes, it was hard but when I think about my twin brother who's right now in war, I don't have the right to complain! Do I?' 'He's fighting in a war?' Yes!', Dean responded. 'He goes by Dae. A big figure, though he hides it. Only the people who survived against him in battles or fought alongside him will know of him.' (Dean: Well can't remember who ever lived after a fight against him!) Dean gulped half his beer down, posed it back and sighed. 'Well', he went through his hair twice, 'he's a great brother and helped me a lot. Sadly ... people always compared me to him and ... well! You know he is everything my parents every dreamed of and I am ... I am me, hahah! Only our appearance is the same.' 'Yes sucks!', the bartender agreed. 'But I just hope your brother comes back alive!' – The resulting laugh of Dean was loud to the point even the others turned towards him. 'Don't worry about him, but rather about the people who'll face him!'