It was the first time Zach entered the bar, but not the first bar he had entered on Dystopia. In fact, he had spent quite many a day in another one at the outskirts of the city, where he had a shorter walk back to his ship and where there were fewer people to bother him while he drank to his melancholy. This bar Zach entered to drink, too, but this time it was to celebrate. His hood was lowered to expose his bald elephantine head and even to confidently present his face-tentacles that rested on his chest. The rest of his body was coated in a dark-grey felt robe that protected well from the cold but gave clearly away his lack of any sense of fashion.<br/><br/>Settling at one of the taller tables under which he could comfortably fit his legs, Zach laid down his tray of four of the largest glasses available filled with the strongest drinks and relaxed to give a start to a long night. The bronze-colored, buglike construct on his shoulder buzzed, took a short flight above his head to survey the available space, and landed on the table to conserve its power.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>