Cinja's fingers drum impatiently on the wooden bar as he waits for his drink. He fidgets with a quarter, rolling it between his fingers and spinning it on the countertop. His attention is drawn to a shiny quarter in the coin return of a rotary dial payphone with a cult of the dead cow sticker on the glass door. The dimly lit bar is filled with loud electronic music and deck jockeys looking for gigs. Ratz, the gruff bartender with a robotic arm, greets everyone as "Herr." A drunk man sleeps in a pool of drool nearby.

taken in chatsubo