Morgan's Catharsis
The bartender lets out a rich, throaty laugh as she reaches for a bottle on the shelf behind her. "Hun, outside's always a mess. The day it ain't, is the day I'm out of business."
She pours two fingers of whiskey over ice into a tumbler, the amber liquid catching light from the dusty windows. The glass lands on the counter in front of Morgan with a solid thunk, and the ice clinks inside.
"Drink up."
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Sirpa's Catharsis
The Keeper leans over the bar toward Morgan, interest clear in how their pupils expand. Bending at an odd angle to peer at him from the left, then rotating to examine the right side before straightening. They look at Sirpa, and then Teresa.
"You can perceive each other?" It doesn't sound like a question, despite being phrased as one.
"Interesting... Multiple first-time customers perceiving each other at once... That doesn't happen often. Usually, they're far too lost in their own catharsisβ" Long talons point to their head and chest simultaneously. "βto notice anyone else."
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Teresa's Catharsis
The server gives an easy shrug. "You guys are here 'cause something's weighing on you. Heart stuff, mind stuff, whatever. That's kinda the whole deal with this place."
He grabs a rag and wipes down the counter in front of him.
"As for sending you back... I mean, technically I could, but not gonna recommend that. You'd end up a husk of your former self."
Another shrug, palms turning upward. "But hey, you can totally bail anytime, Silver Lady. Like, no one's stopping you. So if you're stuck here?" Tossing the rag over his shoulder, the server says, "That's 'cause deep down you don't wanna leave."
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