“But eight’s an even number,” Ray pleaded, wanting to continue his drunken escapade. “A nice, round, even number. eight drinks, eight sides of a stop sign, perfect number to stop at!” He exclaimed, reaching for the shot that was placed before him by the bartender. Ray downed the shot, making a face as it burned. He slapped his credit card down on the bar. “You may not be a bartender, but I’m Ray.”
“Your logic is… very sound.” Wren’s chuckle left her before she could stop it, with a grin following just seconds behind. “I think eight is agreeable.” With her grin dialing back to a smirk, she cut her eyes toward the bartender, gave him a nod. Eight it was.
She picked up her own drink and took a sip from it. “Wren,” she said, passing along her name with an amiable incline of her head. “A few more drinks of my own and I may just get to eight too, but I’m pacing myself.”
“Yeah? You think?” Ray beamed, taking his card back and sloppily scribbling a few lines as his signature. He leaned on the bar, resting his head in his hand as he looked at the woman.
“Wren? That’s a nice name. Rhymes with Ben! That was the name of my fish in the third grade. He was nice.” Ray sighed, missing his little fish from so, so many years ago. “I mean, I was pacing myself, then I realized I had nobody to keep pace with, and these mixed drinks? So good!”
Cisco backup 