Rochester Inn

[Derkylos]

A well-built, young man enters, wearing clothes that are at least 3 years out of fashion. His walk, his mannerisms, seem jaunty enough, but his eyes betray loss, and exhaustion. Winston Harris, the bartender, hails him as he approaches, "Hey, Josh, the usual?"

"Aye, an' make 't strong un." Winston reaches under the counter and comes back up with a glass full of muddy brown liquid,
"What was it this time, lad?"
"Some bleedin' freelancer preachin' abou' t' 'light'. Them Nomads makes me skin crawl," Joshua takes it and slides a few credit chits across the counter to Winston.

He withdraws to a table at the side of the bar, and takes a look around at the occupants. Seeing the Arbeiter in the corner, he inclines his head momentarily. Dismissing the remainder of the population, he buries himself in his drink.

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