raza
Another end to another season an’ Raza is closin’ up shop for the night. The Hanged Man has finally emptied out, and hell, she sent Mik home awhile ago. Even Hoa’s gone off huntin’ or somethin’ like that (whatever it is, his familiar place in the rafters is empty and there ain’t no distress comin’ her way, so she ain’t fussed about his absence). With an idle song on her lips in some appropriate minor key, she sets to wipin’ up the tables and pickin’ up the empty glasses. A rag’s thrown over her shoulder for the particularly gross bits, an’ the mop pulled out of the back room to take care of some of the worst spills.
Back and forth she swabs, back to the door, but feelin’ perfectly safe there alone, even when the rest of Torchline seems to have gone to bed.
Back and forth she swabs, back to the door, but feelin’ perfectly safe there alone, even when the rest of Torchline seems to have gone to bed.
