Gideon stuck his hands in his back pockets and wandered across the lot to the heavy metal door and took one out to pull it open. He entered and blinked a few times to get used to the light.
He’d walked into a bar–dark maroon walls and piano black pool tables felted in light gray. The ebony bar took up most of one wall and behind it were rows and rows of different types of liquor. A sign on the wall read, “No shirt, no shoes… no problem.” He looked around. There weren’t really many tables, but against the walls and in front of the fireplace were several couches and comfy looking chairs. In one corner, a couple of older men sat playing chess. At first glance, a large gray and white dog lay under one of the pool tables.
A second glance confirmed it was a wolf, not a dog.
A curly brown haired guy with a goatee looked up from one of the couches. “Help you?” He asked. Gideon noted he wore the vest of the Club, or the pack, he wasn’t sure yet.
“Yeah, I’m looking for Brand.” Gideon met the guy’s eyes for a second and then quickly averted them, trying to be polite. He wanted the guy to know he was friendly. He didn’t want the guy to think he was being challenged. It was polite. Gideon was the outsider.
“He’s in the chapel,” the other guy said and pointed at one of the heavy wooden doors stained a dark brown that the grain looked the same piano black as the tables.
“Don’t mention it.”
Gideon bit his tongue. He had a standard response to that, but he was trying to make a good impression. He walked across the room to the door indicated and knocked.
“It’s open.” The voice was mild.