A young woman with a tear stained face sits down at the Sunken Flagon bar. "Sundown, leave the bottle," she tells Sal, and begins to drink with steady determination. Her event is interrupted by a well dressed young man. "Pika, please stop," he begs, eyes tearing up. "Did you find the ring," she asks, setting down her 5th cup. The man shakes his head sadly. "Then leave me alone, Lem. I may as well die happy today." "We could get another . . . a copy or something," he argues. "In less than a day? Exactly like Meidron's? No, Lemuil, it's not possible. Just leave me be." She takes another long drink of the Sundown, turning away from the man. He frowns at her, "But . . . sis! We could put the wedding off, he never has to know!"
Pika pours another glass. "You know I can't put it off. I'd have to wait another year, and everyone is already in town. What would I say? No . . . I give up. Just let me drown." The man grabs her arm, "We could look for it again! It has to be somewhere, right? You could at least try!" She looks at him sadly, "I'd give anything to get it back, Lem. But we've turned the estate upside down. It's gone. Maybe someone stole it. Maybe the gods made it vanish . . . I can't do it again." Lemuil lets her go, sliding onto the bar seat beside her. "Fine, Pika. But if you're done, so am I." He grabs the bottle and takes a drink straight from it, then begins to cough violently, eyes watering as he chokes it down.
The group sits nearby, able to overhear the whole conversation. Sal the bartender waggles his eyebrows at them, mouthing the word "Anything." He shakes his head and wanders off to fetch another patron his drink.