You enter a shabby-looking inn at the corner of a dark alley, one whose partrons might better be described as those ilk . No-one openly turns their eye towards you when you enter, but an uneasy feeling that you are being watched ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ at the back of your mind. After ordering the house special - watered-down ale - you move to a darkened corner of the already dimly-lit room, only to find a chubby man drinking a soda.

A soda.

Forrest Lay [forrestlay.com]