Note: This segment of the story is on the same night, and in the same place as, but after, Heartsring Harper. While reading one is not necessary for the other, it may help you make sense of things.
All I wanted to do tonight was get a drink someplace I could go without having to watch my back or be bothered by ghosts. Night's Kiss seemed like a perfect place for both, given it's a club, has no tolerance whatsoever for fights - and the muscle to back it up -, and is well-warded (and I should know, seeing as I helped set the protections up) against ghosts, except in the levels that cater to them.
What I wasn't counting on was the normal entertainment, a girl known as Heartstring, being off, as I'd been looking forward to seeing her play (a weird mix of music and performance art, given that she plays her own body and has a knack for showmanship), even if that wasn't the main point. But such is life, and the band who was on instead was pretty good too...
Nor was I counting on some guy with a mane - Night's Kiss also has something set up that lets you see exactly what everyone is, despite the fact that most of us normally don't look any different, or at least not different in a way that can be pinpointed, to those who aren't the same 'type', though there are exceptions - coming up and asking for my story.
But what the hell. Why not? Not like it's hard to talk about how you got back; our little groups do do that all the time, inside themselves. Even people who don't know a thing about each other share notes on the web, trying to figure out how people end up with the... spirits... they do. And maybe a fresh pair of eyes could lend some insight... It's not like I was breaking any rules or anything. I mean, sure, secrecy's a big deal, but he wasn't exactly a mortal himself, and it's not like how you come back is top-secret information...
