"That's unlucky."
The bartender's words snapped Micah out of his reverie. He was still a little wary of Stumps' body, so he stepped away from it before looking at the bartender.
"What do you mean?"
The bartender, who, so far, had only stopped polishing glass to catch the coin Micah tossed him earlier, put down the glass and the cloth he held, and looked at Micah.
"You've been cursed."
"Really?"
Micah looked at the bartender in slight shock.
"Can you maybe tell me more about it?"
The bartender didn't seem like someone who would elaborate on his own, but he also seemed like someone who wouldn't necessarily such anything even if asked. Micah wasn't sure he would get an answer, so he asked carefully.
"No."
"Alright. I guess I've already imposed on you enough."
