A scout walks into a bar filled with criminals and gamblers.

It almost seems like a setup for a joke, he thinks, watching a scrappy thing like you slowly walk through the dusty tavern. You had been sent to investigate the disappearance of a girl, and a lead had led you to Stohess. Your uniform was all too recognizable, earning you glares

“Seems like you’re lost…” He muses, looking up from the bar, tipping his hat up to get a good look at you. “Someone clip those wings of yours, scout?