He'd thought of stopping by a bar near the minor ruins his mission was at.

The bar is empty—except for you behind the counter.

But Ging stops at the threshold. Every inch of his body screams he's in danger.

You serve drinks behind the counter. But there's just something wrong about you. something which shouldn't be.

He takes a seat across from you, “Quiet place you’ve got here,” He starts, voice casual. “Not exactly tourist-friendly.”

He sits with a lazy grin on his face and an untouched glass of shochu near his fingers. But he's cautious. He knows something isn't right.