This bar had the best retro rock, and it had eventually become one of Nikita's hangouts on the nights she wasn't at the restaurant, in a rig, in a ready room, at the gym, or collapsed on her bed. Which was about once every six weeks, at this point, so she wasn't a regular by any means, and she didn't recognize anyone here ever. Not even the bartenders were the same when she was only at a place every six weeks.

She slipped onto a stool next to a guy that looked kind of familiar, but not in a way that worried her yet. Maybe he had one of those faces. It wasn't unattractive, even though he'd clearly had a few already.

"Hi," she said easily, then asked the bartender for a vodka seven. She liked clear drinks.