A mild summer air settled over the cove that evening, the constant breeze carrying the scent of salt and fish up from the docks into the town above. Throughout the sky was scattered the occasional wisp of cloud, not quite enough to diffuse the harsh glare of the moon. The light made for prime back-alleyway strolling, illuminating any shadows where would be muggers and other such riffraff could hide.
Surebec took to the alleys that night, little fear for his purse in mind. It was only half-filled besides; it would make a poor prize for anyone willing to put forth the effort of stealing it. Tonight, Surebec felt a bit like spoiling himself, or perhaps more like soothing himself. A boy of fifteen, the barkeep saw no issue in selling him a bottle. In fact, the man was probably glad to get the halfhund from his sight. The boy’s lurking presence was not good for business, especially on a prime night like this.
The rum was watered down, cheap, but one could not expect much else from a p