Is this becoming a detective story now?

Quill swaggered forward then paused.

“The booth.” The mask pointed at a corner. “The one with the nice candle holders.”

Swiftly now, Quill found his way to the billowing red booth. Sliding in, he drummed his fingers on the table. “Is this the house band? They play here every night?”

The candle flickered off the red, green, and blue acrylic paint of the mask. “The band? Music? Stories? I’m trying to be flexible here, but despite what you may have heard, I can not deliver everything your heart may desire.” The mask turned out toward the crowd. “Almost, almost.”

Percy leaned in close to Quill’s ear, pretending to preen. “Focus. You’re getting too much into character.”

“Story.”

The mask turned toward Quill then bobbed up and down. “Jimmy.”

A man dressed in a pressed white suit with white shoes and a white baseball cap gave a half grin and wandered over.