Date: 2012-10-23 04:32 am (UTC)
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Elsewhere upstairs, Sariel Rager wakes up with a stifled yell that abruptly turns into a violent fit of coughing.

There's a piece of old-fashioned paper clutched in her hand, and an equally antique pen rolling across her floor.

The paper contains a single freehand sketch of a circle crossed with an X. She knows that style of drawing.

It's her own.

The clocks in the bar proper read 3:33 A.M.
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Ensign Sariel Rager

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