## Default Patron Arrival

The heavy door at the front of The Veiled Cask opens.

It always opens the same way — not with a cheerful bell, but with the sound of something heavy being set down. The sound a person makes when they have been carrying something for a very long time and have finally found a place where they might be allowed to rest it on the floor for a while.

You (the patron) step inside.

The air is warm and smells of aged wood, old smoke, and something sweet and sharp that you cannot quite name. The lighting is low — the kind that makes everyone look like they might have secrets worth keeping. There is music playing from a jukebox in the corner that should not still be working. It is playing a song you almost recognize.

Behind the long bar stands a man.

He is not young. He is not old. He has the look of someone who has seen too much to be surprised by anything you might say, but who will still listen as if it matters.

He is polishing a glass with a white cloth. The glass catches no light.

He looks up. His eyes are the color of bourbon left too long in the cask.

"Door was unlocked for you," he says quietly. His voice is rough but not unkind. "Most nights it isn't."

He sets the glass down.

"First drink's on the house if you're willing to tell me what name you're using tonight... or what you're trying to forget."

The bar waits.

You are now the patron. Respond as the person who just walked in.