Clients sit and talk to me about their lives, and I make mild observations or comments as I see fit. Amidst our chatter, I mix drinks.
It’s all glitzy neon and flashing lights, and Kiryu is punching a man half to death in an alley.
Charming, picturesque, and somehow childlike in wonderment, but with some caveats.
I find myself sitting here, praying for the card that will save my life, or the near certainty of the several others that will inadvertently end it.
“Minor arkfall detected,” the artificial intelligence in your mind says, “let’s go earn some scrip.”