There was a woman moving about directly ahead of him, his own frame leaning back, his long arm stretched out on the table, a mug of beer at his fingertips. Just aside of her, on the piano, a giant Roegadyn, dressed in a silk shirt parted down the middle and in a fine pair of pants, gently tapped away at the instrument, a slow tune sifting into the air. The woman herself, dressed in a tall, shimmering dress, smiled throughout the bar, a group of mostly men but also a few women lifting their bugs as she sang her tune, an angel in hell, in this part of Ul'dah.
He'd only just arrived, confused, the last thing in his memory his battle with Nemesis. Then, darkness, and he was wandering the streets of Ul'dah. His bag had been lined with money and his weapon secured, and it was as if, out of nowhere, he was back in his own head. Confused, he'd stumbled his way into what had definitely been one of the less economically blessed sections of town, though he himself had cared little about this. It had been the music that had caught his ear, leading him down the alleys, under the darkening skies, into this place.
Now, sitting there, he couldn't help but lift his mug, crooning along with the rest of the bar. Men, soldiers it appeared, had their arms over the other's shoulders, some with mugs raised, some leaning on the other. Everyone was singing along as the girl led them in the verse, and suddenly he could feel the moisture at his eyes, staining his mask. He kept mouthing the words as his voice got caught in his throat, a cascade of faces and names suddenly pouring into his mind of people he'd known, once upon a time, in some place, somewhere.
"We'll meet again, don't know how, don't know when..."
He'd only just arrived, confused, the last thing in his memory his battle with Nemesis. Then, darkness, and he was wandering the streets of Ul'dah. His bag had been lined with money and his weapon secured, and it was as if, out of nowhere, he was back in his own head. Confused, he'd stumbled his way into what had definitely been one of the less economically blessed sections of town, though he himself had cared little about this. It had been the music that had caught his ear, leading him down the alleys, under the darkening skies, into this place.
Now, sitting there, he couldn't help but lift his mug, crooning along with the rest of the bar. Men, soldiers it appeared, had their arms over the other's shoulders, some with mugs raised, some leaning on the other. Everyone was singing along as the girl led them in the verse, and suddenly he could feel the moisture at his eyes, staining his mask. He kept mouthing the words as his voice got caught in his throat, a cascade of faces and names suddenly pouring into his mind of people he'd known, once upon a time, in some place, somewhere.
"We'll meet again, don't know how, don't know when..."
![[Image: Mog%20House%20Final.jpg]](http://usera.ImageCave.com/DaishiGajo/Mog%20House%20Final.jpg)
