All matter of people find themselves in Dionysus’ Chalice; the good, the bad, the human and the fey. One way or another, they filter through the door and find themselves a seat, a drink, a piece of gossip to swap between themselves. There’s something ( almost ) communal about it.
He’s not much of a drinker, or so he says, but gossip is its own type of currency. Moreso in a place where information can be so scarce. So much so, that he’s almost happy to buy a round or three for those by the bar tonight.
“--Ah, you’re fine. Consider this round on the house for everyone. I happen to have a running tab at this place.” And not a single cent to pay for it, considering he’s flat broke and unemployed. But no one’s asking about that. “So, feel free to drink up and enjoy the night.”
@corvcore
