She pulled up a stool next to him. "You’re a hard man to find, Robert."
A slow, tired grin spread across Bob’s face. He took a final sip of his scotch and stood up, his joints popping like small firecrackers. "Well," he said, adjusting his worn cap. "If they’re asking about me, I suppose it’s time I gave them an answer they won’t forget." [S1E5] What About Bob?
Bob finally turned his head, his eyes bloodshot but sharp. "And what’s that?" She pulled up a stool next to him
"What about Bob?" she repeated softly. "Not the Bob who messed up the shipment. The Bob who built this harbor from a pile of rocks. The Bob who knows where the bodies—and the ledgers—are buried." "Well," he said, adjusting his worn cap
Bob didn’t look up. "Most people stop looking after a week. You’re ten days late."
The flickering neon sign of "The Happy Landing" bar buzzed with a rhythmic, dying hum that matched Bob’s current mental state. Inside, the air smelled of stale beer and missed opportunities.
Bob sat at the far end of the mahogany bar, nursing a lukewarm scotch. He wasn't a tall man, but he carried a weight that made him seem to take up more space than he actually did. In this small coastal town, everyone knew Bob, but lately, everyone was asking the same question. “What about Bob?”