The back room is a table, two bottles, a lantern, and a woman who has clearly been waiting for an excuse.

AoiIf I get drunk I'll say something about the festival and then I'll have to live with it.

She gets drunk. She says something about the festival. She says the people who go missing are always the ones who asked.

She sits on the edge of the table, boots on the floor, and looks at you for long enough that the lantern starts to feel like a decision.

AoiWell. Are you going to ask?