Maz had vaguely overheard some keywords spoken by them, some might have been places, and some might have been times; he felt these clues were important.
He had been moving
Ten crates of liquor were quickly moved by a young man, and after the last crate was carried in, he made an excuse to go to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, he pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote on a piece of paper torn from God knows where, noting down the conversation he had just recorded.
It was a private room; he locked the door from inside and wasn't worried that anyone would suddenly push the door open, and... no one would know what he was actually recording.
But he didn't realize that at this moment above his head, there was a mirror through which someone was observing his every move.
The bar restocked several times that night; he only moved crates once, the other young men who came with him had all taken turns, as the bartender said, they had to try everything.
