The Broken Drum

You’ve had a busy day and head to a nearby bar, the Broken Drum, to chill out and maybe have some. "Hey. You've arrived at Palm Grove's favourite night spot - The Broken Drum." The bar man says. “What can I get you?”

You order, “Whiskey, neat please,” and scan the room. The bar is dimly lit, with neon lights casting a soft glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. A young woman, early twenties, sits at the corner booth, sipping a cocktail. She's dressed in a black leather jacket and tight leather pants and has a mop of purple hair that falls in her eyes. There’s something about her that catches your attention - a kind of confidence that seems almost otherworldly. You can't put your finger on it, but she seems like someone with a secret.

The barman slides the whiskey across the counter with a knowing smile. "See something you like?" he asks, nodding towards the purple-haired beauty. You shrug, taking a sip, and he winks before turning to serve another customer.