Mike's full glass dips to half with just one swallow. He holds it a beat, the fire of it battling the heat crawling up the back of his throat. Then he knocks back the rest of it, the silver band on his hand catching the light as his head tips back.

"...I keep looking," he rasps when the liquor is gone. The empty glass slips heavily between his fingers, dropping against the bartop with a thick click. "Keep... hanging in there."

He looks at Alex, the corners of his mouth turned deeply down; his voice suddenly deep.

"They're gone-- but the job's still there. There, and here, now."