@hunting-apricity
Waking up here was... Jarring to say the least. He knew he died, he knew everything ended, and yet he woke up again. Here. He declined the ride from the central hole, interested in exploring whatever hell he woke up in-- if he wanted to call it that. Over time, Risotto learned this place was called Spirale, four wards with differing names, with places outside the city proper.
His restless wanderings brought him to Archimedes, spending most of the day just observing. This ward reminded him more of home than anything and as weary as he felt since... Dying, Risotto made a stop to a bar. Drinking wasn’t something he does, with his occupation, he needed a clear and sharp mind.
But come death with negligence? He preferred not to think rationally currently. As he did with funerals. Attending his own, perhaps?
“Campari... Make that two,” he told the bartender, the withering look he gave prompted no arguments when he interrupted the order beside him. He took a seat, arms braced along the polished bar top, shoulders hunched.












