bar crawl

It was near on the witching hour, and the bar on the outskirts of the Allirian capital was bustling with a comfortable number of patrons. The establishment was called the Golden Fish. A place of middling repertoire, neither particularly seedy nor reputable. The floors were sticky, the windows...

Masika was tipsy. Not drunk! Not yet! On a scale of one to twenty, she was at a decent eleven. The buzz was nice, having her feel warm even though the dessert nights tended to be cold, and causing her to smile at everyone, whether they looked her way or not. Of course, Masika smiled at everyone...