Paul arrives first, heading straight to the jukebox and lining up every available Springsteen song before anyone else gets a chance. The digital jukebox isn’t cooperating, and I hear him mumble something about “vinyl” and “the good old days” before his mood quickly picks up when I appear behind him with his freshly brewed Irish coffee. He takes it to the far booth in the back and sits on it as it cools, scribbling on his notepad while waiting for the others to arrive.