Malcolm sat at the back of the pub, watching. Only after the scene did he speak, and all others in the pub could most definitely agree with this particular choice of quite crude words.
“The f___ was that?”
After many hours, the room, once raucous, fell silent. The doors swung open. After a minute, a man, wearing a Parabola-Linen Suit, entered, and spoke to the bartender. “all shall be well” The door in back opened.
After another raucous hour, the man came back, with both of his operas in hand. One of them had a red Candle on front, and the other was clearly burned seven times over. “Alright, who wants to be out of their skull on honey and laudanum?”
The crowd gasped. This man rarely spoke! What could be going on?