The place they arrived at was beyond Cobra's expectations.
To be clear, his expectations had been absolutely rock bottom. He half expected them to arrive at one of those little drink stands kids would supposedly set up to sell lukewarm lemonade for half a jewel. Only instead of cobbled together drinks, they would be selling…love advice. But no, that imagined outcome might have actually been preferable to…this monstrosity.
Squeezed between two large buildings–probably more respectable establishments–was a tiny, narrow piece of property whose front didn't even have a proper door. Instead, a large, purple curtain flowed over the entrance, only barely masking the interior; from what Cobra could tell, it was mostly dark, indicating little if any lighting inside. The curtain had clearly not been a part of the original structure, given that it was hastily fastened to the top with some ropes and cords tying it to the side of the structure. A wooden roof and a narrow alleyway on either side were pitiful confirmation that this was indeed a building and not just a strangely placed tent.
The most offensive thing though wasn't the hastily tied cloth, or the fact that the interior was dimly lit at best, or even the fact that the building was sandwiched in-between two much larger storefronts.
No. It was the sign.