Before the party is over

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Had Danta known that Tal liked to refer to his base of operations as a seedy underbelly, he'd have been hard pressed to decide whether he appreciated the comment or was offended by it. Regardless, as the courier enters the Dusklight, its rich decor, deep colours and perpetual twilight will hopefully not upset the man's sensibilities, let alone what might be happening in the shadows. Or who might be happening.

The barman gives Tal a look as he orders, but it's not because of his choice of alcohol - no, that is delivered with ease. It's the first part of his query that causes mild confusion, and the worker points directly over the Messenger's shoulder, as if he might have forgotten his eyes on the way into the establishment.

There, on one of the tables towards the back wall, sits the Maverick, stripped to the waist and drizzled with what first might appear to be blood. Based on the fact that the young woman licking it off his chest is not a fellow Ancient, though, it's probably some other flavour.

Dantalion