Ralf was feeling mighty proud of himself as he walked out of the therapist's office. He was able to come up with enough non-answers to questions regarding his life and status that she actually brought out ink blots -[i]ink blots![/i]- in an attempt to get some sort of gauge on his personal feelings. Of course he had to take pity on the poor girl and answer those honestly. It wasn't hard, after all. Mostly skulls and mouths. On second thought, he may have gotten himself into more trouble with that than he had originally intended... 

Ah well, it was time for some well-deserved anything-but-that to get his mind off the trouble. He started up his bike and drove to the nearest bar. Things that drink blood usually hang out at places where everyone around their potential prey is mostly shitfaced and wouldn't be able to describe the suspect very well. He parked, as was typical with this sort of thing, but one thing that was decidedly atypical was the sight in front of the bar. Apparently this is the kind of place where the especially drunk are free to quite literally blow their chips all over the sidewalk. And their eggs. And their lettuce. And their spaghetti sauce. And their brown bags of everything, really.

His initial thought was that someone had been mugged, but he came in on the tail end of a demand that someone pay for replacement groceries, so presumably the person who mugged the grocery-holder was getting mugged by the person they mugged, and all was right with the world. The big hole in the window seemed as convenient a place as any to come in, so he stepped inside, carefully ducking under glass shards, and walked up to the bar, ordering something dark and nonspecific.