A dark bar, lit from candles in corners. Shuffling sounds and soft whispers murmur around. There aren’t many people in here. A bartender clad in formal dress stands behind the bar wiping out a glass with the white tea towel in his hands. A middle-aged man sitting slouched on a stool at the bar “one alcohol problem please” he says, slouching forward to the bartender, gutturally.

“One alcohol problem coming up”, says the bartender with the bare trace of an accent. He finishes wiping the glass in his hands, swinging the tea towel back over his left shoulder. He pulls a bottle from the back of the nearest shelf. “How serious?”

“That one,” says the guy on the stool pointing at one. The bartender pours out a shot glass full and slides it along the counter towards him.

A teenage girl, looks about 17, bursts in through a hidden side door followed by a bright flash, like from a laser beam. Smoke wisps up from the wooden paneled floor, a a few embers spark threateningly. (In the background a despair-laden sob is heard, “They revoked my smarts license today. I'm not allowed to be smart anymore.”. The man sounds truly broken.) The bartender leaps over the counter, puts out the embers with his bare hands and looks down at the panting, sweaty teenager. “Would you mind not setting my bar on fire?” he says to her.

“It nearly got me. I saw a door. I didn’t have time to think. I opened it.” She appears to study her surroundings for the first time.

“What nearly got you? Is my bar in danger?” He says this quietly, calmly. For the first time there’s a hint of a threat in his voice.

“The … the moon …”, she says, trailing off half way through the last word. “I’ve heard of this place”, she says, meeting his eyes for the first time. “You have the …”

“No.” He cuts her off and starts walking towards her, forcing her a step back, closer to the door from whence she came.

“I’ll have a drink”, she says, voice slightly high pitched, as she senses only patrons are welcome, not fugitives, no exceptions. He stops mid stride, and studies her. “Very well”, he says. He walks silently back to the hatch, opens it and walks behind the bar. “So what will it be?”