“One and fourty” Colin muttered under his breath.

The passenger was taken aback by this gruff response and turned his gaze to the bus driver.

“Excuse me” he responded in a more than friendly tone

Colin turned his head to meet his passengers eyes, staring almost through them rather than into them. “One and fourty” he again replied, with the same abrasive manner as before.

The passengers head jerked swiftly back as the aroma of cheap whiskey from Colin’s mouth hit his face like a freight train. Shaking it off with a quick half smile, he dropped some coins into the bus drivers hand and chose a seat at the back of the bus. Colin watched his passenger in the rear view mirror. Once he had taken his seat, Colin reached into the inside pocket of his moth eaten jacket and took out a small rusted bronze hip flask.

Unscrewing the cap he took a long mouthful of the liquid inside, letting out a deep throaty cough as it burned the back of his throat. He then pulled the bus out of the station, hip flask still in hand.