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Fresh out of Insulae prison, for whatever dumbass reason that the EMU or whatever the fuck they were called these days let him (....not that he was complaining), Vin set out to the nearest bar in search of some firewhiskey. He could definitely use a drink, and maybe somebody to play with. That was one thing that he had really missed. Touch. His skin on somebody else's. Interaction. A decent conversation, and not just through bars. Another was the openness of everything, being able to walk around freely without a care in the world, and no one looming over his shoulder to make sure he kept in line. It was a great feeling to be out on his own again. The world was his playground. The question was: would he set it on fire again, or be a good boy? He highly doubted that second one. A devilish smirk creeped onto his face was he swaggered into the bar. Taking a seat at the counter, he signaled the bartender with flick of his fingers, and ordered a glass of that ambery drink that he so fancied.