Serena's. The closest Den had to be Serena's?<br/><br/>Alherien slid her revolver back into its holster, leaving the straps loose. If anyone here remembered her, she'd need it.<br/><br/>She slithered up to the front gate to the hive of scum and villainy, looking up at the musclegirl guarding the place with her dark, goggled gaze.<br/><br/>"...Ah, shit. Lynx?" the woman grunted, a slight smile spreading across her face.<br/><br/>"Don't even think about it. I'm not here for that," Alherien growled in retort, pushing past and heading into the Den, slipping the hood of her cloak back to reveal a shock of shoulder-length, stark white hair, straight but for a few tangles. She walked to the "front desk" with authority, keeping her rebreather on -- it was of good make, so she wasn't stressing for time on it. She definitely didn't want to breathe the air in a Den, having no clue what manner of diseases could be rampant here.<br/><br/>"I need chempaks and food. I can pay." Her words came out raspy from behind her gasmask, but they were legible. She slid five U.S. dollars on the table, scavenged from a crashed tourbus from one of the first meteors touched down. She'd been saving it for a rainy day.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>