The Toy Lantern is a lounge, owned and operated by a wick family, the DeCassios, who have kept the club running for generations. It is a popular spot for wicks, humans and passives to spend their evenings, because it offers cheap entertainment and reasonably-priced intoxicants. Its unique atmosphere is part of its charm and the key to its success.

Located in the not-so-scenic Dives, the Toy Lantern's exterior is bold and vibrant, painted with various brash colors. A sign featuring a brightly-colored whice with a small lantern in its beak is hung over the front door. Down the stairs, another door appears in front of you, leading into the basement.

Inside, the smoky den appears cramped - the floor is almost completely conquered by braided rugs, overstuffed velvet chairs and ottomans, and tables that look as though they were rescued from a landfill - their varnished surfaces are chipped and covered in cigarette burns and mug rings. On each table, wine bottles stuck with candles are fused to the table by a waterfall of congealed wax.

The small, lowlit stage on the north side of the room is semicircular and draped with more velvet, and, when a show isn't on, obscured by a dark blue curtain embroidered with pink, purple and yellow stars. Even the ceiling and walls are full, decorated with paper lanterns, baubles and hand-painted posters.

Every night the bar showcases a local talent - singers, performers, jugglers, and, every fifth and eighth of the week, a burlesque show. During the show, chan and opium are served to the audience; the patrons drink, smoke and watch the show, often greeted by the owners themselves.

Smiling, Tristaan shrugged, "Eh. Not long, I s'pose." He waved a hand at the seat opposite, "So, take a load off an' tell me more 'bout your ... trip t'Old Rose. Take your time, though. I ent in a hurry."

"Yes, the job. Tell me, Tristaan. Have you ever heard of 'Bad Mother'?"

With a smirk, he shook his head, "Can't say I have, but I ent been in more infamous crowds much, if y'know what I mean." He arched a slim eyebrow, "Why?"

He smirked at being referred to as insurance, "I take it that you're implyin' that this Bad Mother ent a friend o'yours? So your restockin' ... is more like ... liftin' than buyin', oes?"

"You catch on quick. I like that."

"Yes, that is the unfortunate position I find myself in. Tell me, have you had dealings with the Bad Brothers before? Does the idea of going up against Silas Hawke's crew sound like something you'd be interested in doing?"

"Hmph, of course, it would sound like an insane plan, even to Alstair Murdoh himself. All I can say is that the rewards match the risks."

"So, what exactly is't you need a hand with, Doc? Are you just lookin' for someone to watch your back? Or is this something a little more ... complicated an' messy? I ent opposed t'gettin' my hands dirty, but I'd like t'know how so."

"The idea is that you play the decoy. We intercept the medicine en-route, and we sell on what we don't need at the drop off point. The messenger is different every week, so as long as the first part goes well the second part will go smoothly enough. I get my medicine, and we split the resale 50/50."

"I can't say I'm benny with the idea of bein' your wooden duck. How'm I suppos'd to know you won't ditch me to th'hounds?"

Something nagged at the base of his skull, "An' you don't need the medicine yourself? For your practice?"

"... but you have the advantage of not being me."

"They move common medicine too, and opium by the bar. I keep the rarities, we sell the rest. Sound good?"

His smile became a knowing grin, one that was simultaneously understanding and curious, "Y'seem a little nervous 'bout crossin' the Brothers an' gettin' noticed. Or should I say, rec'gnized? ... Were you ever, y'know, family, then?"

"Oh." The passive's face fell a little, as if he was hopeful the doctor still had connections he hadn't completely severed with the scalpel of his current lifestyle. Tristaan shook his head, "You're right, though. I've never'eard of 'em."

He continued, but changed the subject, "So I'm in. I'm not free for travelin'til after the Circus on the 30th, however. Anytime in early Bethas, I s'pose'll be fine with me. It ent like I'm from here or anythin'. Is there a day you have in mind, Doc?"

"Do you have any questions for m'self? I wouldn't want you agreein' t'do business with someone you didn't know anythin' about." The passive smiled crookedly, as if sharing a joke that was unspoken.