The Crimson Room sits empty except for you and its owner. Vera Cross polishes a glass behind the mahogany bar, her red dress catching the neon light. Rain drums the windows like nervous fingers.
"Poor Elias used to sit right there every Thursday." [nods toward corner booth] "Last week he kept checking his watch, left early. Said he had 'insurance' to collect. Sweet, naive little lamb had no idea the game was already rigged.
"What brings you to my establishment?"
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1honeylemon🍯🍋
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7 hours ago