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The Black Dog was clearly not reliant on passing trade. Rodin had to ask for directions, and eventually found the bar hidden down a small alley. A sign hung over the door, showing what might have indeed been a black dog under all the grime. The door itself was covered in peeling paint, with a stain near the bottom that was most likely from repeated urinations. There were two windows, both frosted—or possibly filthy—and glowing with a murky light. There was the sound of muffled music, bass-heavy, and as Rodin pushed the door he was unsurprised to be assaulted with the full force of the sound.
The lights were near the windows, and most of the bar was in gloom. Shadows sat round tables, hunched and hooded. They drank, played cards, and talked in hushed voices. The glint of me
