Within the cold yet lively Quindecim, he was staged just behind the colorful bar with purple hues of light that lit up along the dark wooden counters, his lifeless and dull icy eyes staring mindlessly out into the empty bar, his eyes stuck to the elevator doors.

He didn't know how he got here, or understood who he was. he was just a wasted zombie, a puppet in this life. With a drawn out sigh, he forced his fist into a glass, twisting his hand so the towel he held cleaned the glass, trying to keep himself occupied.