The Dreamjolt Hostelry’s lights were reminiscent of eventide, inviting Penacony’s pariahs to emerge from the shadows and find refuge in its warm glow.

From one of the plush booths, a certain worker observed Siobhan mentoring him once more. Gallagher, she’d said his name was. On the sleek counter was an array of crystalline glasses, each filled by a different concoction, mixed expertly by both the teacher and her student; they were varying shapes and sizes, a rainbow of premier drinks that caught the eye.

Several system-months prior, Siobhan had recruited a trusted companion to help with entertaining the bar’s unique patrons. The same individual was now overlooking the training of the new recruit: he’d be a second bartender who would cover for the Halovian when she had to deal with issues beyond her establishment.

On this specific night, Gallagher had witnessed a heated argument that’d broken out between two regulars.

While his coworker had acted as mediator in Siobhan’s absence, he opted for a different approach; wordlessly, the ragged brunette slid two drinks towards the bickering duo, before turning away to serve other guests.

Gallagher only spoke to his colleague when traffic had died down, approaching the uniformed figure slumped on a barstool. He retrieved a cloth rag from his pocket to wipe at the counter, his voice its usual gruff baritone: “Busy night, huh?”