Irene Maiden
Within a gently lit room, past heavy lacquered doors and a polished hall, framed by pillars of rich mahogany over a tiled floor, a woman sat. Lips perked in an unassuming smile she rested on a leather stool, swirling a glass of wine in her hand against the lights, elbow resting over a dark and long counter behind which shelves of bottles and a myriad of drinks rose proudly. Despite the unburdened air and the relaxing Blues music echoing from the speakers behind carved pillars, the rows of seats behind her and dispersed through the room were mostly unoccupied.
It was great luck that she had found this place, truly. It had a certain charm which was difficult to find even if you expressively sought it out; and even if you found a comparable spot, few had the dignity of use and age that standouts like this did, worn upon its furniture and decorations despite how their modernity jumped into sight.
She had been incredibly disoriented when - certainly by some psychic power or supernatural trick - she found herself in an unfamiliar night and haphazard metropols streets little after sunset when she last recalled being in the deep egyptian nighttime. And to think after that they had shortly tried to accost her. The thought was almost comical, but it had been a blessing in disguise; she would have need of cash to fairly partake of such an establishment, and crooks who didn't look like starved twigs did not need their wallets by her account. So she had relieved him of it and left him to nap for the authorities to pick up.
Maybe she shouldn't have been contemplating drinks and food to follow after being tossed in such an unfamiliar environment, but it helped ease her nerves. An aimless hour walking around before arriving here had left her to think the city was quite suspect, and with no obvious ways to find her way back to what she was doing, she really needed some leisure to reflect.
Perhaps the barman noticed she was troubled, because he waggled his conservatively trimmed mustache when he leaned in from the other side to speak to her. "Something on your mind which you'd like to talk about, dear customer?"
Irene looked at him for a second before chuckling disarmingly and nearing her glass to her lips. "I seem that lonely, sir? In truth, I appear to be in a bit of a pickle, and I'm not why, how or even where." She took a sip and licked her lips at its hearty and strong flavor.
The man's eyebrows perked at her words, and he leaned in while stroking his chin. "Hoo, I see. I believe you're far from the only one to feel that way around these parts."
"Oh?" That got her attention. She set down her glass, but didn't let it go, and leaned towards the other side of the counter. "Tell me more."
