The Blue Note

I poured him another round as he stared vacantly as his paper.  The top line read Si vis pacem, para bellum. The student glanced up at me and then back down at this paper.  Behind him, Truman danced on screen as another shot was made.  Again the student glanced up at me.  I want peace, we are prepared, now what?  He said Vegetius didn’t elaborate. Occationally I get a drunken prophet. I pickd up a glass and wiped the inside with a white towel.  It really didn’t do anything by that is what they did on TV.  The student raised his hand to signal another round.  Three measures of Gordon’s, one of Vodka, half a measure Kina Lillet, and shake.  A Vesper.  Apparently my client had expensive taste. He either had money or a desire to go broke. His shirt was ruffled and unbuttoned his hair disheveled from running thing fingers through it, and the outside of his right thumb was red from drumming it on the table in front of him.  This was a man who felt slighted. I had seen it before. Confounded by something that went outside what he knew.