“Master, why are we going to the Laughing Dragon? Surely a hero of noble character would never frequent such a place,” the servant whined.
“Good men can be found among rogues,” his master said before opening the shabby door.
The interior of the teahouse was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and cheap wine. There was a smoky haze that obscured the far wall of the dingy, dark place. The buzz of conversation ceased when the master stepped through the door. The patrons considered him briefly before returning to their drinks. Taking no notice, the master found a table.