The promenade was usually pretty full this time of night.

And yet somehow my seat is always open, John thought, lighting his cigar and drawing the rich aroma into his mouth. Well, empty every time except the evening two drunken ladies had curled up on it, and made mockeries of themselves in general.

But all the same, he went to the Promenade, half because the whiskey was good, and half because they had his chair. It better be empty, I had to make the damned thing myself. I should be allowed to sit in MY chair, I think. A smirk touched the edges of his lips as he realized he was suddenly sounding like an old man.

The night was cool, but not quite biting as he stepped into the Promenade, ducking his head under. Any given day you'd see a noble and a beggar in this place, not sharing a table mind you but sharing an experience nonetheless. The Promenade had grown from shack to inn to full-fledged nexus of activity. Not everybody knew the ins and outs of Radasanth, but everybody knew about the Promenade.

Seemed fuller than usual today, with dwarves at their short tables, and a few elves sitting in the back, no doubt talking trash about everyone else. He sucked on his cigar again, and caught the eye of the barkeep. He held up a single finger, and mouthed 'bottle'. A quick, frowning nod was his reply, and he turned around to snatch a fresh bottle from under the counter.

Now, who's in my chair, the half-giant thought, lumbering over to a sturdy and oversized chair, noticing a smaller gentleman relaxing with his feet upon it. He fixed the boy with a neutral gaze as he placed a hand on the chair's back.

Well, as neutral as the eight foot man could manage under the circumstances. Jamie still told him he needed to smile more.