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I stepped beside Steve “Woodford Reserve," I said, re a taste-test Gra at his bar
“Ah, the lady is beautiful and knows her bourbon Consider me smitten,” the man said “Woodford Reserve it is”
I smiled to myself while I attached a new canister of soda to the dispenser
"What are you s about?" he said, his voice playful with just a touch of an accent – Cajun, from the sounds of it
"You're not frolasses on the bar and then started pouring "But you know your bourbon"
"I’ line of bourbon drinkers Actually, a long line of drunks, truth be told"
"Oh, yeah? Where are you from? You sound Cajun" I bent down to take a beer out of the fridge, liking him despite my initial impressions because of his playful sense of humor Unfortunately, I knew that charm was one of the chief character traits of sociopaths, so that didn’t win him any points with me
"Cajun, born and raised," he said as I sorted through the beer "I lived in Louisiana just outside New Orleans for part of my childhood, so you know your accents"
When I stood up, he stood as well and bowed, bending at the waist with a flourish of his arm
"Beckett," he said, and then he laid the accent on thick "At your service "
I laughed and wiped the bar with a clean cloth "Is that a first or last name?"
"Both It’s randfather’s name and my mother didn’t want our family to lose”
“No last name?”
“Call me Beckett I have too many names so just Beckett will do”
“Okay, just Beckett,” I said with a grin “People usually introduce the their full name where I come from”