TEASER
Because It's a Teaser, It Has No Title
The barkeep, polishing a glass with a filthy white rag, peered down at the black-hooded figure who had just ordered his fourteenth drink.
"Isn't there something you should do?"
The figure shook with silent, mirthless laughter.
"What can I do?"
The bartender frowned and poured another drink.
"Cosmopolitan. On the rocks," said the customer.
"That's your thirteenth," said the barkeep, not even bothering to raise an eyebrow at the man's selection of drink.
The figure peered up, dark bags under his golden eyes. His braids were frayed, he had a five o' clock shadow, and he generally looked like his life had gone to hell and had a wild party there. "I'm Xaldin, of what was once the Organization, and my constitution is remarkedly better than yours. Now give me my damn booze."