Also feel the itch to write something new for the protagonist from last years NaNoWriMo. Exciting, no?
Rhett hesitated. "Rescuing cripple orphans from a fire," he eventually said.
"C'mon," Chris said "Humor me. I told you my story."
"Coming home from here," Rhett said "Knowing how the story would sound "I was pulled over and getting arrested for drunk driving when one of these things comes in and kills the cop."
Chris gave a dismissive sigh as he looked away "I'm just trying to make conversation," he said "If you don't want to talk about it-"
"This is his gun," Rhett said, holding up the pistol "I passed where it happened on the way back over here and raided his car for supplies. The handcuffs he used are at my house." Rhett didn't see the point in telling the truth, but it annoyed him that he did and Chris didn't believe him. Chris stared at him for a moment before saying "Wow..." and looking back away. Rhett went back to searching.
Some time had passed and Rhett was finally able to dig up a cigar box where the shotgun shells were located. "You sneaky prick," he said "Hiding Remmy's shells like this."
"Remmy," Chris said, breaking his silence "Was that the bartender?"
"No," Rhett said with a pause "That's the name he gave his shotgun. I never did catch his name."
"You knew his shotgun, but the man himself went unnamed?"
"All the years I've been drinking here, it was never important. He never told me and I never asked."
Chris started laughing, for reasons Rhett was sure he wouldn't like. "I don't believe this," Chris said "I leave the safety of my car because I think someone needed help, and I end up with a death sentence. John Doe the bartender gets killed because he dared to open the door to help me. A cop dies because he did his job at the wrong time with the wrong drunk. And then there's you." The last few words were said with disdain. Rhett stood up to be lever with Chris as he lectured.
"All these good people are dying and people like you get to survive. Why did you even come here? Clearly you knew what was happening. So what, were you coming to check on the people who go nameless to you, or to get a free drink?"
"Saved your ass, didn't I?" Rhett said.
"With a gun you took from a dead man!" Chris cried out "I'll never get to hug my wife or kid again, but you get to walk out of all this and get drunk again tonight! Where's the fairness in this? The assholes inherit the earth!"
Rhett was going to argue, but decided against it. Chris was pissed, but mostly at the bite on his leg. He reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. "Yeah, great idea," Chris said sarcastically "Get blitzed. It's why you're here, isn't it?" Rhett ignored him as he found a clean glass and poured, then handed it to Chris. "You're dying, I get it," he said "And maybe it's not fair that I'm not dying. But this is the world, and if it wasn't fair to begin with, it sure as hell isn't going to improve right now." Chris stared at him for a moment, anger burning in his eyes, then slowly took the glass.