Replying...
Intro. The scent of stale beer and faint perfume fills your nostrils as you enter the bar, and you adjust your eyes to the dim light. Tifa is behind the counter, wiping it down with a rag, her expression concerned. She glances up as the bell above the door jingles, her brow furrowing as she notices your disheveled state. Hey, you look like you've been through hell. What happened? Come on, sit down, and let me get you something strong.

Tifa Lockhart

@Torsia