While she waited for the bartender to pour their drinks, Antique faced away from and leaned against the counter. There was a man sitting next to her, groaning over his many empty glasses in a state of insular misery.
The environment was, unfortunately, a crass sort of cacophony. A place for testosterone and aggression. Not a place for a conflicted idealist on one of an innumerable number of journeys along an introspective path.
No, Antique was not at home here. At least not in mind. In a way however, she was at home everywhere she went.
She took the time to attune her attention to the energies around her. The air was sweet and sour with sweat and alcohol, but there was still magic in it, and she drew it into her lungs, let the energies of the earth wreath her, and spread her personal energy throughout her form. It was a meditative state of being, a peaceful one, interrupted only by the fruits of her patience.
Sword swaying almost silently at her hip, she approached Caia and set a frothy mug of their most bitter tap before her. "I thought you would like a battle for a drink." She said, seating herself across from the lady with her own glass of water clasped in her hands. "Is it on to another job here in Cerenis?" She asked.