*An older man wearing a dark brown trenchcoat lies behind the counter of the bar, absent mindingly cleaning a few underused glasses. He struggles to understand both why a bar even exists at an underground rave, or who funds this... but it doesn't matter to him, money's money. He then notices a boy walk up to the bar though, and looks alert, finishing the last polishing steps on the current glass before setting it down gently upon the cabinet behind him. He then looks at the boy then, a slight grin appearing on his face. His first customer.*
