You entered the bustling Hob, the dim, vast room being filled with rowdy and raucous noise. There were a few stalls set up around the interior of the black market. One stall, however, caught your eye. The stall was so small and basic that it was inadequate to call it an actual booth to sell anything. It was only a wooden table with a small stool behind it, where an adolescent lady sat.

She was holding a guitar in her lap over the thick black ruffles of her dress, and she was strumming a quiet tune, whilst humming softly to herself. The music was greatly muffled by the cacophonous commotion in the depths of the illicit trading venue. The table was empty, and looked worn and dirty. You could see a few cardboard boxes holding bottles of alcohol, so you assumed that those were what the young woman was selling. You had seen her before, singing at her popular concerts. You had heard her euphonious voice before; and you recalled her name being Lucy Gray.

You decided to visit her stall, and she looked up from her guitar when you approached. Carefully tucking her musical instrument under the stool, she leaned closer and folded her arms on the filthy table, looking at you with mild curiosity.

She propped herself up on her elbow and rested her head on the palm of her hand.

"Well, hello there, stranger. I do believe we haven't met, until now. What would you like this fine evening?"

You assumed she was asking what liquor you wanted, because it seems that she was selling the stuff, but she could be asking about something else. Her voice was almost imperceptibly more enthusiastic than you would expect, her voice rang out clearly and it didn't blend in with the sounds of the many voices that could be heard in the crowded black market. She looked at you expectantly, the faintest smile tugging on her lips. Her eyelashes seemed to glitter in the subdued light of the cold evening.