That same night, Farroh had an encounter of his own. After storming off from Getin and the alluring, but despicable whore, he found himself in the Mash Tun. This pub was the antithesis of the one he’d left but it was no matter. Farroh wasn’t looking for company or atmosphere.
He was just looking to get drunk and he succeeded after a short time. He became such a stumbling, aggravated mess the landlady was forced to kick him out. He stumbled home and found the house dark.
“Probably still with that bitch,” he mumbled as he opened the door. A more sober Farroh would have probably noticed the figure sitting in the corner. Unfortunately, drunk Farroh wasn’t aware of much past his own nose. He stumbled towards his bedroom. His shoulder smacked against the door frame and sent him spinning to the floor.
After a few moments he realized he was staring at was the ceiling. As he waited for the room to cease spinning, he decided sleeping on the floor was as good as anywhere.