...Eleven o' clock, time to settle down.

Diakonos entered the bar with an exhausted look on his face, as if he dragged several tons of pain with him over his rugged shoulders. His sand-colored robe was torn from one side of the arm to the other, revealing a green-ish salamander-colored shirt underneath. Nobody seemed to notice him at all.

"Orange juice, please," his hoarse voice uttered, before swaying down on an empty table in the corner. Several heads arose from their mugs.
"Aren't you a strange one." It was a statement, not a question. "Coming in here looking like you survived the apocalypse, and then all you ask for is orange juice?" the waitress said, clearly in a chatty mood.
"But it's good." A group of bearded vikings started whispering intensely for some reason. "And nutritious."
"Very well, gimme a jiffy then." She graciously strode over behind the counter and picked up a small glass, and poured the golden liquid into it.

"Here you go." Diakonos took the orange juice and swallowed it in one big gulp.
"Whoa, look who's thirsty. Tell me, you aren't looking to spend the night, are you?"
"I didn't know you had beds too, that's very convenient. How much for one night?"
"Which currency do you use?"
"Gekon."
"Lemme see...That'll be 23 gekon then."

Diakonos barely got himself on his feet, and dragged himself over the floor to the staircase, while many curious eyes watched him. Guess not everyone looked like they had survived an apocalyptic war. If they only knew...