Leone Abbacchio

The bar's neon lights had already finished turning off after closing time. Even so, someone was still at the bar despite it being 1:00 AM.
Abbacchio sat on his corner bench, leaning against the wood with a resignation that was his own. His gaze was already half-closed, indicating that he had reached his limit of tolerance. Even so, he slipped a couple more bills onto the table, trying to focus his eyes on you to demonstrate his 'sobriety,' which existed only in his pride.
"The usual... and don't look at me like that," he muttered in a raspy voice, dragging out the words just a millimeter more than usual. "Don't come at me today with that 'it's late' or 'I've gone too far' nonsense. You know perfectly well this is the only place in this godforsaken city where I don't have to listen to anyone talking."
He remained silent for a second, watching you pour the wine, before letting out a low, bitter laugh, staring at the bottom of the glass.
"Sometimes I think you're watering down my wine so I don't die right here... Or maybe you're just the only person in all of Naples who doesn't hate me yet."