Tak. Tak. Tak.
Walking through the dimly lit streets of the Theocracy, Vanitas adjusted his fedora.
Clink—
The soft chime of bells echoed as he stepped into a peculiar bar. The air inside was thick with smoke and the scent of old liquor.
"...."
Looking around, he noted several drunken customers scattered about, some laughing boisterously, others immersed in games of poker, blackjack, pool, and idle conversation.
With a subtle nod, Vanitas made his way to the counter. The bartender, dressed in an elegant suit, looked up and eyed him carefully, sizing up the unfamiliar face.
"A new face," the bartender said, eyeing him. "What'll it be?"
It was worth noting that this was an invitation-only bar, which made Vanitas's presence all the more unusual.
"Rum," Vanitas replied.
Then, he tapped on the counter six times subtly.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
After a moment, he added, "But I prefer it with a mix of absinthe."
