Interlude with Jazz

Scene: A dark jazz bar somewhere in Southeast Asia. The walls are black, the air smokey. A ceiling fan beats incessantly in a futile attempt to cool the humid, tropical air. The sax player plays a mournful tune, full of sorrow. A tall man in black enters, carrying a bundle wrapped in black silk. He takes a seat at the bar.

"Ahhhh...Mr Sons! Good to see you again!"
"Hello Jimmy."He places a bill on the bar. "Pack of Red Apples, please?"
The bartender pushes the currency back.
"Your moneys no good here, Mr Sons." he says with a smile. "You know that." The bartender hands him a pack of cigarettes.
The man takes a cigarette out, lights it.
"Thank you, Jimmy. Scotch on the rocks, please."
"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Sons. Our freezer is broken again. No ice!" he said smiling again.
"Alright then. Neat, please."
"Very good, sir."
The bartender walks past the displayed bottles and pulls one out from the back. It appears to be very old, the label peeling with age. He uncorks it and pours it into a glass.
The man in black takes a sip.
He lets out a sigh, long and weary.
The bartender looks quizzically at him. "Is everything okay, Mr Sons?"
The man peers over his sunglasses.
*Sigh* "No...no its not, Jimmy."
"Oh my, sir. Can you tell me about it?"
"Heh. Sort of. Tell me, Jimmy; do you know what evil is?"
Jimmy crosses himself. "Well...I suppose its a wrongness, sir. Something bad...or doing bad things, I guess."
"Well said, Jimmy. Now suppose you had a chance to stop the wrongness? To stop the bad thing and keep it from continuing to poison people? Would you do it?"
Jimmy nods. "Oh, absolutely, sir!"
"Now suppose you were thwarted at the last minute. To have your opportunity snatched away. Now all you can do is keep watching the evil unfold, continuing to poison the world, turning people against each other. How would you feel?"
Jimmy quirks his lip. "That would make me sad, I suppose. Quite sad."
The man in black swirls his finger in his drink, his brow furled.
"Yes...yes, I think you're right, Jimmy. Sad."
The bartender wipes a dirty glass, frowning slightly. He looks thoughtfully at the man in black.
"Mr. Sons?"
"Yes?"
"This reminds me of something my grandfather once told me. 'Jiang,' he said 'There will always be conflict in this world and in people too. Sometimes you can fight it, sometimes you cannot. Sometimes you'll see friends caught up in conflict, strive against each other. Sometimes its best to not get involved, let the conflict burn itself out. Your contribution will only fuel the fire, keep it going."
The man in black stares at his glass, not looking up. "What then? What is one supposed to do?"
"He said 'During the battle, take comfort in small pleasures. When it's over, take time to heal before fighting again.'"
The man in black smiles slightly.
"Was your grandfather a holy man or a warrior, Jimmy?"
"Oh, no sir!" Jimmy scoffs. "He was a bartender...like me!"
The man in black laughs, the first time he has laughed in days.
"I'll be back in a moment, Mr. Sons. I need to check on the
dishwasher, he's been nothing but trouble since he got here!"
"No worries, Jimmy."
The bartender slips thru a curtain to the kitchen. A light stream of two voices cursing in Mandarin and English softly wafts out to the bar.
The silk wrapped bundle shimmers momentarily.
"Yes, I know." The man says to the bundle. "They are close."
The bundle shimmers again.
"We'll see. Who knows what will happen?"
The bundle shimmers brightly, impatiently.
"I could explain it to you in detail, but why would you understand? You have a heart of metal, after all. Do yourself a favor; dont ever change that. Its better that way."
The sword shimmers dimmly, insulted.
"What the hell do you know about love? Or friendship for that matter?"
There is a shimmering retort.
"Ouch. Good point. Thanks for turning that around on me."
A phone begins buzzing in the mans pocket. He takes it out, looking at the caller ID.
His eyes narrow at the display.
"At last." he whispers.