Hello there Player, it's been a while hasn't it? Or maybe not. Who knows if I'll see you again between my writing of this letter and you receiving it. As of this writing I know it's been at least two years since you sat down at our table, and while I'd love to catch up, I'm afraid that's not in the cards.

I'll get right to the point. This letter and it's delivery are provisional to my will following my passing. If you are reading this, it means I've moved on. Do not grieve, for I have had a long and plentiful life, and carrying out the legacy in my family by operating the Inventory has been the joy of it. A joy I had one day hoped to pass on to an heir of my own... well... you never meet the right person and sometimes you just run out of time. I have no son or daughter to whom I may bequeath the club and carry on the legacy. But I know that the Inventory must stand, a fixed point in our changing world. Therefore... I've chosen to leave it in your capable hands. You are by far the most stable and reasonable of the regular patrons I've come to know over the years. You have a good head on your shoulders, I know you can handle it. I hope that keeping the spirit of the games alive gives you as much joy in life as it did in mine.

The paperwork and deed are included. Moxxi quit a few months ago, so you'll need to find a new bartender, but GladOS is still operational and set up as dealer and to assist in day to day operations. Just... do be careful around her. The restraint programs have been improved significantly over the years, but she may very well still try to kill people if she can find a way around her own programming. You'll also find a notebook in my office with some contact information for people who can help if things so south.

Good luck and farewell,

Winslow

"Oh... it's you." A female voice spoke from the glowing red eye inlaid into the Inventory door. The player stood in front of it.

"Hello GladOS." The player replied. There was a moment of silence.

"So you CAN talk. I am conveying the emotion known as "shocked" at this revelation."

"Complete silence. The perfect pokerface." He replied.

"Ok, I'll give you credit, it certainly worked. You had an 83.56% higher win rate than any other patron in Inventory history." She spoke matter of factly. "And you are speaking to me now because?"

"Well how could I possibly hope to run this place without speaking? I'm done as a player, so I can drop the act." The player shrugged. The red light blinked and the golden cage of the elevator appeared from the ground around him as he felt himself begin to descend.

"Well, pleased as I am at your newfound verbosity, there is some business to take care of." Glados spoke as the elevator door opened. The player descended the steps onto the now dimly lit Inventory floor, which only faintly lit near the bar, with shadows being cast as Glados' frame bobbed about overhead.

"There's nobody here." The player observed.

"Obviously." Glados snarked as his statement of the obvious. "The Inventory has actually been losing money for some months now. Winslow was in a fair amount of debt. Along with the business, you've inherited those as well.

"Whoa." The player was taken aback. "The letter didn't say anything about..."

"These debts were accumulated after the letter was written but before his death." The white, singled eyed "face" ducked down right into the player's. "Blame him for lack of foresight."

"How much debt?"

"$12,345,678 US dollars plus annually accruing interest at a rate of 7.8%."

"Wait... twelve... three for five... that's seriously the amount? A string of exactly incrementing digits?"

"Yes it seemed improbable to me as well. I checked the math."

"Damn."

"If you want to get out from under this debt before you yourself expire and pass it to another unwitting victim, I suggest you work to re-open the Inventory as quickly as possible." She reminded the player.

"Right... ok so bare minimum we need a bartender and a host..." The player considered.

"Might I make a recommendation?" Glados interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Though the Inventory has long been a secretive, private club since its days as a speakeasy, a greater volume of business is surely the quickest way to reduce the debt."

"So... open the club to the public?"

"Yes. We'll take in regular traffic along with our usual high-roller guests." The player hesitated for a moment.

"We can try it. Let's limit the tournament to the invited guests for the moment, but we can certainly open this place up to some drinks."

"I'll start screening applicants for our staff. In the meantime, I've printed out a list of qualified quests." A printer underneath the bar revved to life. "Please select the roster for the opening night tournament."