He quirked his eye. He was an old man; weathered. His skin looked like it must be at least two hundred, and had started turning into thick leather more than skin. Even so his eyes were younger, and he still looked able. One hand remained under the bar, and she could be fairly sure it was gripping a weapon. The other pointed toward her, palm up, expecting payment. In here one could get anything; but anything cost money. Money that Senti didn't have.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>