The town was in temporary chaos. Power outages, strange flashes in the sky, and now every citizen being squished into the limited hotels that Redwood had to offer. How had these few buildings managed to maintain electricity you ask? Why, through the kindness of those who had private generators, just like Oz Borror.
‘Kindness’ wasn’t exactly the correct word. His agreement to assist hadn’t been given for free to the mayor. On no. With Oz, there was always a price.
As people ran around the hotel reception, pushing and yelling for rooms in which they could place their head on a pillow and forget this horrible ordeal, Oz sat in the room just to the left, a snug little bar the hotel provided which served both spirits and sushi, what a weird place. Clearly the male didn’t have a necessary reason for being here, his home had not suffered the outage. Yet, here he sat, people watching and humming an old tune as he cupped a glass of bourbon. His humming would only cease when a new face sits on the stool directly beside him.
He looks to them, raising his glass to take a sip.
“A word of advice, skip the sushi.”
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