You find a bench on the main precinct and sit down. Wakefield is a funny
place. Opposite you is chain bar Reflex and some other bars called Bing Bada
Boom and HD Sports Bar. They look dark and grey at this hour, yet sit below
what were clearly impressive buildings at some point in their past. The
remnants of grand banks and picture houses filter through, the longer you sit
there.
A man wearing lime green tracksuit bottoms and a plain white
T-shirt sits down next to you. He speaks in a friendly but clipped tone. He
shakily takes three packs of cigarettes out of his pocket, clumsily
dropping them on the floor and asks if you smoke. Before you can answer, he
throws a whole pack your way and says "All yours, buddy."
You have PACK OF CIGARETTES.
He lights one himself and begins talking about the previous
night. You suspect he may not have slept for at least 24 hours, as he twitchily
recounts his story in a non-linear fashion. After some time you notice the
distant strains of a band playing, from the direction of the Hop. The man, who
you now know to be called Kenny, says that he likes you and thinks there's a
real bond between you. He says he is off to a pub just round the corner and
says you should come with him. He begins to walk away.
Do you:
