"Sorry sir, no weapons allowed," the neatly dressed doorman halted Ben from entering the rustic establishment before them.
The Friday nightlife was as buzzing as the crickets that chirped throughout the shrubbery. A seaside breeze drifted down the brick roads, that were lit in yellows which invited the moths to incur concussions.
Ben looked at the bracers he held in his arms, "D'you have some coat check I can leave this in?"
The doorman's brows furrowed, "This isn't South End sir," he uttered with a bit of dignified disdain. "Return when you've left your weapons at home."
"It's getting late; best you go back to your hotel," Fumeko grabbed her sheath with the dagger and unclipped it from her belt. She tossed the sheathed blade to Ben, who caught it onto the pile.
"I could've done that before we came all the way out here," he complained. "Besides, what about you? You're gonna go home alone?"
