As you leave Hozer's bar, you briefly check the list he gave you once more. 'Potatoes, ham, cheese, and hops,' you repeat in your head. You pull your sweater over your arms and turn the corner to an open street. Going out is stressful for a grey, so you rarely do so. But halfway through your walk, you realize your hermetic nature has now played a part in getting you lost. You blindly turn another corner, into a dark alley. "Why are you here?" A stranger asks, dropping a man by the collar.