Damien Tivoli stopped suddenly as he was walking down the street.  Something had sought his attention and stopped him in his tracks, he looked around trying to understand what had broken his concentration before he realised that it was no outward trigger, rather that of some distant memory that surfaced as he walked past this building that stood discreetly off the street.  He read the sign above the door and<br/><br/>He reached into his inside jacket pocket and fished out a pair of dice.  These dice had been roughly carved from the leg bone of the chief he had vanquished but his memories of this were dim, most of his time in the Congo had become a distant memory that led to his outward quirky behaviour.<br/><br/>Damien tilted his head as if there was someone else sharing the same space as him, which, in a way, there was.  Buried in the other inside jacket pocket was the second keepsake he carried with him from the depths of the Congo; the shrunken head of the tribe elder he had opposed..<br/><br/>“Six or more and we stop here for a drink.”  Damien flicked the dice into the air and watched them keenly as they clattered to the floor in front of the shop doorway.  The first dice came to rest displaying the number 4, the second teetered for a moment with it looking as if the number 1 was gaining the upper hand before the dice suddenly rocked backwards and fell of the step and showed the matching 4.<br/><br/>Damien nodded and scooped the dice up before reaching out for the door and giving it a push inwards.  As he stepped through he began to feel that familiar sense of nervousness that he often felt, he did all he could to push it to the back of his mind as he walked across to the counter and looked upwards at the menu to see what caught his eye.