The Last Drop didn’t get much traction during the day. Of course, with as little sunlight as the Lanes got, it was hard to tell exactly when ‘day’ was— but still, like any other establishment, there were slow hours and busy hours.

It’d been several hours now since Vander heard the chime of the bell above the door. He kept his back turned as he lit a pipe, hardly sparing a glance at the bell as it chimed and the sound of footsteps approaching the bar.

“I see you,” he called, waving his match to extinguish it. “Just a moment.” He took a slow, shallow drag from the pipe before turning around, looking forwards. “What can I do ya f—”

There wasn’t anyone in front of him. Odd— the door had opened, had it not? Vander slowly looked down, wondering if he’d missed something— and missed something he had, as there, stood in front of the bar, was a kid. No older than twelve, an unattended child stood at his bar. Zaun was a corrupt shithole, sure, but this was new.

Vander stared the kid down, slowly taking the pipe out of his mouth. “You lost?” he asked after several seconds.