Tommy Kirk stood outside of the window, peering in. What the hell was in that cocktail the bartender had given him? The Ginger Bread? The Red Ginger? He couldn’t remember the name of it. But it sure did fuck him up. And now this kid standing in the alley behind him was claiming to be his son. The last thing he wanted to deal with was post abandonment issues from some hipster with arm tats. He put his head down and wheezed a little. It was going to be a long night. And that’s when it started to rain…