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The band and the singer were still belting out the numbers as Hosh strolled off among the tables. Seconds later, the nervous-looking waitress returned with my second drink, plonking it down and scurrying off without making eye contact. She was skinny and plain, with no earrings or jewellery of any kind, with a kind of harried look that was compounded of one part tiredness to two parts fear. I thought I would recognise her again if I had to. I drained the first drink, then sniffed hesitantly at the second. It did not smell spiked, but I decided to leave it alone just out of general principles. I stood up, picked up my hat and arranged it carefully on my head. On a whim, I swept up the fresh glass and carried it with me as I walked back towards the exit. On route, I passed an overweight and middle-aged goblin who was clearly already in his cups. An open fifth of bourbon - a cheap brand - stood on the table, now mostly empty. Eve so, the drunk was alert enough to be tapping along - nearly in time, mostly - to the jazz beat from the band and watching with intoxicated fascination the sensuous movements of the chanteuse on the stage. I slipped an arm around his shoulder in a friendly fashion and slid the bourbon onto the table in front of him. "Here you are, buddy," I said, "A drink on the house." He grunted at me with some semblance of acknowledgement, although he did not take his eyes of the pouting singer who was nearly wearing the sparkly blue dress, just launching into another jazzy number. "You're welcome, pal," I said, then set off unhurriedly for the doorway where I had come in. Just as I reached the exit, which was still guarded by the same two rotund bouncers, a commotion reached my ears. I turned around slowly, feigning surprise and curiosity. As far as I could tell, someone had stood up, flailed around, then collapsed unconscious onto the drink-stained carpet knocking a tray of drinks from the hands of another of the waiting staff. A couple of the tuxedo'd bouncers were closing in, although the pair at the doorway made no move to assist. It was the drunk to whom I had presented my second drink, of course. As I watched, the bouncers scooped him up by the elbows and shook him to wake him up. Then they escorted him forcibly, his own legs struggling to keep up, in the direction marked "Fire Escape" where, no doubt, a swift exit into a scruffy back alley awaited him. I hoped they didn't treat him too roughly; after all, it was hardly his fault. I turned to leave, readjusting my hat to an even jauntier angle. The door guards made no move to stop me, although I was nearly convinced that one of them caught the eye of someone behind me. No doubt I should expect nothing less. I stood in the street for a moment, then turned left and strode towards the transit tunnel which I had used to get him earlier. The arch of the cavern overhead was dimly visible and, by goblin standards, the evening's passing traffic was well-illuminated by glowing streetlights. I looked around as I walked, as if taking in the sights and sounds on the bustling boulevard. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a shadow emerging from the alleyway entrance behind me, beyond the club entrance; no doubt the same alley where an unfortunate and overweight drunk was currently sleeping it off behind some garbage bins. The shadow kept pace with me, neither gaining nor retreating as I varied my pace to avoid the pedestrians coming the other way. It seemed I had just acquired a tail.
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Part 7