A finger flicked a light switch, and brightness flooded a large...underground? room. Bulbs hung from the ceiling here and there, and underlights illuminated a well-polished mahogany bar, and a truly staggering collection of bottles behind it. Booths lining two separate walls suddenly became visible, along with mismatched tables and squashy armchairs in a sunken corner. Some tables had chess boards sitting upon them, others a variation of games from different...places. Some were of a far more esoteric bent than one would expect, actually. Another wall was lined with a truly staggering assortment of books on floor-to-ceiling shelves. The sound of prep work came from a saloon-style door, leading to what could be seen as an elaborate kitchen. A fireplace lit up, surrounded by couches. And lights lining a well-crafted staircase leading up to a small lobby lined with doorways, and a half-wall with a sign reading "Coat Check" hanging below it. It was a warm and cozy place.
The bartender, one Michael by name, rubbed a mug behind the bar. Looking askance as a small fellow, Zach, in a too-large coat polished the tables. Raguel was in the kitchen cooking, if memory served. Sela was handling the coat-check room today, and he wasn't sure where Gabe or Raph were. Probably goofing off somewhere instead of cleaning.
Idly, he put the mug in a corner and sat back, looking up at the staircase. You never knew who'd be coming down that staircase each day. Maybe one of the regulars. Or some new folks. They were always a bit confused how they got here. Mike didn't really know why. The Rest had always been there. Always would. So long as folks needed a drink. Or something. Even if they didn't know it when they came in. He grunted and returned to polishing glassware. Getting too maudlin.
Besides. It was opening time.
((Okay, the rules are fairly simple. Anyone goes, doesn't matter where your PC's from. They can come in from wherever, so long as they opened a door and walked through. No, there's no explanation how. The Rest is just...there. Check your weapons at the door. Please, no fighting. Or at least take it outside (and out of the thread). Verbal sparring is perfectly fine. Keys to the bartender after three drinks. And the employees are exactly who you think they are. Or not. Welcome!))