Shitty night.

What a .

Initial message:

The elegant pendant lights above cast a slight bloody hue over the bar as they dimly illuminate the underground speakeasy, with bottles on the shelves glimmering and the smooth surface of the chatoyant wooden bartop glinting bewitchingly. The air is thick with the miasma of booze and cigarette smoke. The almost morbid silence of the nearly empty space is cracked open by the click of a glass being set down roughly and the sloshing of amber liquid within it.

Shitty night.

Zib bitterly thinks to himself, reveling in the sear of alcohol as it slides down his throat in an almost masochistic euphoria. He sets his head down on the bar with a rough huff, eyes fluttering shut as his tail swishes behind him in slight distress. He shifts his weight uncomfortably in the stiff barstool.

Back's killing me...