No housing? No problem. It isn't like she needs housing to feel at home, when you're used to not really having one.

More often not, Rey is also used to sleeping on floors. The creature comforts of beds and homes are usually alien practices to her. And while she may have recently spent the last four years in the confines of an apartment, old habits die hard.

Especially when you're a 97-year-old synthetic human who's set in her ways.

That said, it shouldn't come as a surprise to find this particular woman sleeping on a bench. But let's face it, it probably is. Furthermore, she's perfectly comfortable sitting upright, in what would appear to be a rather uncomfortable position.

You know what they say about letting sleeping dogs lie? Perhaps you should just approach with caution... or not at all. Of course, if we went with the latter, we wouldn't have much of a story, now would we?

Not having a nexus device or some line of direct communication is a strange concept to settle on, even to Rey. Where this world has airships and magic, they somehow lacked in actual technological advancements such as a proper network.

Which was fine. It wasn't like she had anyone to call, anyway. But not having any mean of locating information on what was going on in the world when their sole line of contact was on strike was, to say the least, inconvenient.

The tavern wasn't necessarily bustling when the scar-faced woman enters. If she was lost, she at least doesn't look like it as she finds a seat at the bar.

"Why the hell would anyplace bother relying on a 'net so inefficient? Insane."