room since I had some time until we switched partners. In what I could only describe as a medieval torture room with an adjacent bar, there were chains hanging from the ceiling, dirty cellar windows and piles of wetness that seemed to be moving. The hunchback sitting in the corner of the room rang his bell. “Sanctuary!” they yelled. A look of confusion crossed their face, a cough, then, “My apologies, bad habit. I meant, switch!” The male denizens sitting at the dozen or so tables scattered around the basement stood up, and all began to move one chair to the left. The zombie in front of me gazed, spoke a quiet “brains,” which I assumed could be translated as, “This won’t work out,” and he shambled to the table next to me. Replacing him was a large, amphibian-looking creature. He had large frills erupting from his forearms, hands more like 昀椀ns that ended in claws, and green, soul-piercing eyes that made my stomach curl. “I’m Gil, from the U.S., moved here about seventy years ago, after I was chased out of the states.” “Well, that’s something,” I mused. “What do you do for a living?” He pounced on the chance to talk about himself. “I’m in real estate, looking to get this area up to modern standards. There’s a little section of Black Lagoon I’m trying to urbanize about a mile down the road. You know, get a Whole Foods in there, maybe a hot yoga bar, really up the value of the area.” “So, gentri昀椀cation?” “That’s such an ugly word. I’m more looking at it as a way of improving the community—” “And make some money while you’re at it, right?” I was already done with this conversation. Luckily, the bell rang, and the partners did the awkward table swap. “Stupid blood sucker.” I heard Gil insult me under his breath. What an absolute knob. I straightened up and focused ahead, trying not to let it bother me. Next in the menagerie of weird to come across my table was a burly wolf man, wearing a tank top that said “Full Moon Fitness: Making gains every day and most nights.” His arms 61 ■ PLAINS PARADOX