Adrian neared the bar, its clapboard figure sandwiched in-between two similarly sized shops, whose weathered brick storefronts were stained with human and Hunter blood, if you can call it that. The dirt street's stately rows of cottonwoods shaded the couple of bodies and single car who had taken up residence there, effectively providing any nearby carnivores with an adequate meal. Once he'd reached the doorway, whose door and hinges were nowhere to be found, Adrian began investigating the interior. The night before, as he was scouting the area, he'd noticed numerous flashes of light from within the building, and had hoped to find some fellow survivors. However, to his dismay, he discovered nothing of the sort. 

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of upturned deer antlers that'd once lined the wall next to mawkish paintings of birds taking flight, which where on the floor as well. Broken glass covered much of the hardwood floor and whatever beer promos had ended up there too. The bar was lined with empty bottles of both liquor and medicine, which likely belonged to the owner of the small cot that was hurriedly positioned in between the bar itself and the adjacent liquor cabinet. Torn and nearly overturned, it was of no use to Adrian, who instead filled his backpack with the few cigarettes and untouched beer cans that were left over from the visitor. Since it was clear that there wasn't much else of use in that particular room, hewalked to the wall farthest away from the entrance, where he discovered a door that, although not possessing a conventional lock of any sort, was very clearly jammed by something on the other side. Curious as to what that might be and if there was anything of use behind it, he, not wanting to attract any nearby Hunters or humans, quietly knocked on the door with as much force as such a low volume would allow.