Weeks drifted past, schemes and plans as perpetual as time. Undercurrents arose and rumors spread once again.
"Lots of men died down in some mansion, I hear them government hacks doing human experimentation!"
"Blind rumors again, Dreston? Didn't time at the jail teach you anything at all?"
"Rumour! If it was a rumor, they wouldn't have arrested me!"
"… stupid."
The conversation escalated into a dispute, more drunks in the bar 'coincidentally' joining.
A person's hand flew onto a face; hurling the poor sod into a wall. This tradition passed by word of fists, and there was suddenly… a bar fight.
As the fists flew, so did the drinks─fueling the crowds' anger even more as the precious liquid supposed to warm their bellies was now spilled on the floor.
Some sprinted through the doors, only to receive a well-timed whack from the resident chair-holder.
"Who baffled my head, you baffling bafflers."
