Once he'd bowed Dorothea in through the door and stepped in after her, Monnayage tried to ignore the assault of smells that came on him like an attack of rabid dogs. Alcohol, stale vomit, and sweat were the more dominant, each less appealing than the next.
<I dislike bars,> Maneki said, mirroring his thoughts.
A few people looked up when he came in, their interest more in Dorothea than in himself, but he ignored them and went straight to the counter where a man he didn't know was cleaning a dirty mug. The guy was somewhat cleaner than the other patrons, his long white hair pulled back with a string and his iron-colored clothes less shabby. He appeared no older than thirty.
"What would you like?" the man asked, not looking up from the mug he was wiping down.
"Actually, I was wondering if Darrak was around," Monnayage said. He leaned forward on the counter, giving the bartender a friendly smile despite the man not looking at him.
"Mr. Darrak is in the back room. Make sure to knock before going in."
"Splendid! Ah, but," Monnayage continued, "would you mind serving my lady friend here while I'm away? It's on me." He turned to Dorothea and winked. "I'll be back soon," he said before striding away toward Darrak's "office."
---
The bartender, Darian, looked up and watched as the man with his cat walked away. He wasn't fond of cats, not after one had nearly mauled him as a child, and almost shuddered at the thought of one riding on one's shoulder like that.
Then he turned his attention to the young lady. "Well?" he asked. "Do you have a preference?"