No one looked up.
But I could tell every one of them was supernatural.
They must the pub's guards.'
A few were watching the door without making it obvious.
They weren't slouches either.
I could feel the pressure rolling off some of them like static on a dry day.
They were trying to act natural.
But their identity as supernatural was visible to my veteran eye.
I walked to the bar and took a seat.
The bartender came over.
He was tall, muscular, and bald, with a braided beard and silver piercings on one ear.
His eyes locked onto my mask.
He didn't ask why I was wearing it.
He just gave me a nod.
"What'll you have?" he asked.
I leaned in slightly and said the password, "Zagreus has escaped once again."
He blinked once, then sighed and scratched his beard.
"Kid," he said, eyeing me again, "next time you come here, try not to look more suspicious than a vampire at a blood bank. It'll make your job easier."
I didn't reply.
