Blinking, Keats opened his eyes and immediately clenched them shut again with a grimace. Where was he?

A park bench. Children were staring. Fuck. Trying to remember in vain what he drank last night his hand crawled weekly into his pocket. No money. Well, hopefully it was a fun night. Certainly seems like it now.

Was something different? Weeks of drinking, writing, searching for building blocks to ascertain exactly what had happened to his mother. Ah well. She was probably doing better off than him at the moment. Death, allegedly, at least brings peace. Need some whiskey to take the edge off. That was the ticket.

Seeing a shady looking figure approach him, Keats offered his most charming smile and spoke sotto voce.

"Any idea where a guy can find a drink around here?"

Robert_Guiscard stands near the man by the park-bench and gives him a disdainful look. Drunks always seem to find him for their inquires into the closet place in which to drown their sorrows in. Must be the clothes he wears, always off dark so as to blind the passively searching to his specific presence.

Heaving a great sigh, he points to the building across from the street by the park.

Tipping his hat, Robert turns and walks back in the opposite direction in a thinking drift, the wheels in his mind turning...

As he counted the money Sam took a quick look over his shoulder. It's not every day you find a mark that easy but you have to be careful in matters this delicate. He finally seemed to be coming to, what the hell, might just as well push the envelope. Sylvestro Carollo walked over to the bench as the man sat up. As he spoke he tried to appear charming instead of hung over. As others left him in disdain, Sam just smiled and helped him up.

"Sure fella, turns out I am flush with cash today so the drinks on me. There's a bar just around the corner, I know the guy."

As he turned to walk toward the bar he couldn't help but consider the hypocrisy of buying a man a drink with the money he just lifted of him.

 The bright white lights burned in his eyes. Oh, the sweetest blackness of night seemed to have disappeared forever. 

Is there anyone out there?

I think I see... two people... but this bright white light... and my hangover... can't tell for sure

 Puts on sunglasses. 

That's better.

 Sees Robert_Guiscard walking away, obviously deep in thought. Leaning back on the bench, Keats yells after him. 

Whatcha thinking about?! Baseball?!

 Notices Sylvestro standing near him offering a few bills. 

Thanks, pal. Hope the sucker you got your payday from can afford it. Where's this bar- and is there a bank on the way?

Cillian sat down on the park bench next to the man, intending to read a book of poetry. He couldn't help overhearing the gentleman ask where the bank was and stuck out his thumb in the direction of the corner bank.

If it's the bar you're looking for, the best one is two blocks down. They have some things there that can knock you senseless just by looking at them!