Over a hundred floors, over a hundred bars sponsored by the god of wine. The Vortex was one of many and one that was not special. A single coal amongst the great fire that was the Endless Bar. The dance floor was a shimmering, iridescent surface that changed colours with the beat of the music.
Dasha sat at the bar, nursing a glass of Obsidian Whisky—a smoky, dark liquor with a hint of sweetness that left a warm burn as it went down. His gaze was steady, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd. He watched as a patron discreetly slid a coin across the bar to the bartender, who leaned in, whispered something, and nodded. Information was being exchanged—a common practice whether on Earth or the White Abyss.
When the bartender approached Dasha for his next drink, he handed him the empty glass. "Another Obsidian, please."
