THREE
The waiter set down a warm beer the color of piss. I looked out the dirty window of the small shop and absently ran the tips of my fingers over the butcher paper. Spills from previous diners stained the top in greasy splotches. Outside the rain continued to drip and wash down from the upper levels. I could see some of the lower races walking past: anur and their broods, cephels moving in that awkward gait on their powerful leg-arms. An occasional pitchfork addict stumbled past, scratching at scabs while hunting down his next fix.
I don't normally seek out restaurants this close to the Sunk, but I didn't come to Shuai Tan for the atmosphere.
The best places to eat in this city aren't the elevated, celebrity chef-run restaurants with a cover charge just to see the inside. I'm sure t
