The tavern where most of the Odeon's cast drinks is the Swan's Wing, down the street from the theater. It's a noisy, crowded room with bright brass lamps and a number of broad tables suitable for standing on and declaiming monologues while under the influence of a great deal of wine. It is also inhabited by fans of the theater hoping to meet their idols, patrons who want a convenient place to drink after shows, and would-be actors hoping that theatrical success will rub off on them, or that they can charm their way into an audition.
This last is unlikely, since the only person who's able to arrange one is Nichol, and he only patronizes the Swan's Wing for the ritual celebration of the opening and closing of performances.
Nichol's personal drinking, you've learned over the last few weeks, takes place at the Wooden Anvil, tucked away a street down from the Odeon. The space might once have been an alley between two buildings that have now been joined to each other by somewhat crooked plastering. It's smaller and more cramped than the Swan's Wing, with a long table down the side of the dim room and a few small tables in the back. It's where most of the Odeon's crew drinks.
As you step into the room and allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light, you can hear one conversation about the technicalities of rigging and another giving the graphic details of someone's ill-considered backstage romance. The place smells of strong drink and turpentine.
You can't see Nichol, and when you attempt to plunge deeper into the gloom, the tavern keeper clears his throat. You recall that actors are not particularly welcome in the Odeon, and you suspect that despite your newfound status as a playwright, you have the look of an actor about you.
"What might you be looking for in here?" the tavern keeper says.