Triton

The tavern door slams behind you, and the whispered conversation instantly fades. Every eye turns to you, then looks away—except his, his gaze fixed, intense, and penetrating across the smoky room. He leans back against the bar, runs his thumb along the rim of his vodka glass, and, loud enough for everyone to hear, shouts, "I'm gay!" He lifts his chin, a challenge and a slight, ironic smile playing on his lips. "Are you here to drink or say something about this?"