Last Call Tavern A place like this makes a person wish every chair sat with its back to a wall. The tavern is a dark and shadowy place, the outside glow of the neb ula filtering in weakly while pale blue plasma lanterns gleam in the center of most tables (some seem to have run out of juice, but the complaints department doesn't care and the maintenance crew doesn't get paid enough to intrude on conversations better left in the darkness). The room stinks of sweat, cigarette smoke, and spilled alcohol and blood. Zara smirks, "You doing the spillin' or where you helpin' 'em clean up the mess?"