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Swearing and cursing could be heard throughout the streets of New York as a young man made his way through the crowds. He dove over bushes, followed by a flamboyant roll each time, and vaulted over letterboxes.

[color=e38800]"Sorry! Excuse me please, sir. Deepest apologies, ma'am."[/color] Were the words coming from the lad's mouth as he stumbled past people and near missed knocking them over. He was more used to doing this stuff in a spacious area, not busy streets filled to the brim with people.

He stopped at a lamp post to pull out the anonymous ticket he had received earlier, paired with the letter that had accompanied it upon delivery. [i]Mr. Jig's Speakeasy: A Reality Extravaganza[/i] they read. He scoffed, much to the surprise of a poor old lady who was passing by.

[color=e38800]"Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you."[/color]

The old lady smiled, probably surprised that there were still good men in the world. The young pessimist shoved both items back into his pocket and hurried off, vaulting over another postbox on his way.
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He finally made it to his destination - the Little Lyceum theatre. He cocked his head slightly, as he hadn't expected a man with such knowledge would choose such a rundown location to meet. Regardless, he followed Mr. Jig's threat, and walked up to the door. Much to his surprise, it opened upon the first syllable of his knock. He was greeted by a hostess, probably a bit too ambitious for her role, and offered a glass of wine. He denied, much to the woman's dismay, and simply sat down. It seemed someone else had gotten there before him. He was far more friendly than the pessimist, though made him feel slightly uneasy - if he was here, how many others had Mr. Jig gotten to?