The Lithium Flower. A bastion of the Red Light District, a citadel of debauchery. Hoffmann glances up at the silvery, varnished Chrysanthemum flower logo which resembles the metal of the name in question.

Fins bopped Hoffmann in the back of the head, speaking.

“Hey. Be on your best behavior. Lots of Yakuza types and drunkards.”

Hoffmann adjusted himself and made himself look as presentable as he could, climbing the steps and pushing open the dirty glass door.

The parlor of the Flower had various circular tables low to the floor for those sitting on it to enjoy the steam pipes they puffed away on. The floor was dirty and scratched, the bar made of seemingly the same wood and stained dark with age and lacquer...no, wait, that’s just a miasma of years worth spilled drink and who knows what else. The lack of open windows hid the world within, lanterns and oil lights illuminating the patron’s faces dimly as music softly pumped through the air.

Hoffmann gently nudged by some drunken patrons ( or high, it was hard to tell ) as he took in the throw pillows about on the floor, the elevated bar, and the thin haze of steam and smoke in the ceiling above, which was dark enough to conceal said ceiling. Hoffmann quietly thanked his luck that this place actually lacked a kitchen. The smell of a grease trap, no doubt unattended, would have made this a bit much to bear.

“This is...something.” Hoffmann said idly.

“Yep! My kinda dive.” replied Fins proudly, beaming as she hailed the bartender. Hoffmann joined the shark beast at the bar, whom barely fit in the stool, as Hoffmann sat - before promptly feeling the world whizz by underneath him as his stool gave way, sending him tumbling to the dirty floor.

Guffaws of chortling, cut by Fins howling in laughter, gave Hoffmann little reason more to feel upset as he realized their game. Fins had sabotaged the seat, as is evidenced by the lack of one leg on the stool, leaving it unbalanced.

“Damn it, Fins.”

“Rule #1 of the Flower: Pay attention. In general. To the vibe, to the music, and especially if you’re the new guy, the chair you sit in.~”

Hoffmann brushed his dirtied pants away as he sat on a newly provided stool, being provided with a shot of sake by the barkeep. He drank it slowly, sighing in genuine relief as he looked to Fins.

“Thank you.”

“...Eh?” Fins started and put down the third shot of sake she had somehow already inhaled.

“Thank you. I’m in a really bad situation, and I don’t know what my fate in the near future would have been if someone didn’t help me. So, thank you. I’m saying that now just in case...something happens.”

“If something happens? What, you on the run or something?” Fins said.

Hoffmann paused on his second shot of sake, putting the cup down as he turned to Fins with a low-faced expression, meeting her eyes, but his face was turned down to the bar. Fins swiveled her stool with a squeak to face Hoffmann head on, eyebrows raised in concern.

“It isn’t my first time on the ocean nor on the streets, Wings. Tell me now if its trouble. I can’t bring any kind of noise down on the Flower.”

“Its...complicated. I’ll try my best. You’ve noted the horns and wings.”

Fins nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t always this way. I was...a human at one point.”

“Oh, I getcha! You’re a changeling! Why didn’t-” Fins was dismissed by Hoffmann’s expression of dismay.

“No. I’m not that. I went through a transformation. I’m not who you think I am…based on what you know, at least. I was born a human. It would seem I’m some old warrior. A, uh...reborn, I suppose. I promise you now I’m not who I was as a human. That man is dead and gone. I only carry his name.”

Fins calculated the words, smelling Hoffmann’s fear pheromones, the emotion that which he kept under tightly controlled wraps. She contemplated his words until Hoffmann felt like he could burst at the seams from the anxiety alone.

“I getcha...Hey. Look at me. Its alright. There’s weirdos all over this place. You’re weird. I’m weird. I’m a fish woman for fucks sake.”