The neon sign flickered one last time—a silent, buzzing laugh—and then went dark.

The man in the tuxedo smiled. It was a benevolent smile, but his eyes were entirely black. "We do not serve the bitter bean here, traveler. We serve the Essence. The 69th Variation. The perfect medium between the solid and the liquid. The bridge between the child and the elder."

A small card rested against the glass. It read: Leche69: The Age of Innocence, Distilled.