Bars, taverns, places for drunks to celebrate, or wallow—they were common places for people to gather. Normal people wound down and socialized after a day's work, and so did Arthur Crane. Lhasri, while not particularly to his taste, was the settlement with the shortest commute. He had chosen it for no other reason; the tavern too. It was a run-down old establishment with an ocean of clientele for Arthur to blend in with. He was seated at the packed bar, with a few seats open to his left and an iced drink in his hand.
His gaze was even, steady on the back wall. Periodic sips and thoughts o