NERON
show me how defenceless you really are
The Kraai is busy at this time - it always is, and it’s not even because it was the place opened by the Citadel’s hero (a la Weaver) and is now run by its fallen angel (hello, Neron). Both of these things are true, but mostly, the place is warm and inviting and it’s dinner time. Tables are clustered with hunters, workers, merchants, and the bar is full too - Oliver will just about find a place to squeeze himself to sit down.
Neron is still getting a handle on actually having more than himself and a couple of others working at the place, so the Hailstorm is behind the bar as the other man sits down. The bar is cool, brisk almost, in comparison to the rest of the Kraai, but that is all down to him. He isn’t keen to burst into flame from the hearth. Dressed in black from head to toe, his shirtsleeves rolled up, Neron swipes a damp cloth over the counter to ensure it’s clean.
”What can I get you?”
Neron is still getting a handle on actually having more than himself and a couple of others working at the place, so the Hailstorm is behind the bar as the other man sits down. The bar is cool, brisk almost, in comparison to the rest of the Kraai, but that is all down to him. He isn’t keen to burst into flame from the hearth. Dressed in black from head to toe, his shirtsleeves rolled up, Neron swipes a damp cloth over the counter to ensure it’s clean.
”What can I get you?”
