18
What I was planning to do scared me but I’d hated the Kwanon aristo on sight and my hate was enough to override my fears.
The interior of the Kwanon bar was reminiscent of a pub I’d been to in Harrogate before the world had got broken and its people had mostly gone mad. The Harrogate pub had tried to recreate the effect of a gaslit Victorian interior. It had flames burning from fake gaslights on the walls, with the result that pools of shadow gathered in every corner, nook and cranny. The Kwanon bar had a similar lighting effect, but it went one further. It was occupied by people who wouldn’t have looked out of place, or smelled out of place, in Victorian times. I saw four people with missing teeth, three with scars on their faces, eight at least who could’ve done with a good wash, tw
