I’m almost directly across from The Promise when I see him. Sprawled on the sidewalk, back propped up against the ferrocrete wall of the flophouse is a bagged-out gutterpunk elf. Looks like he was dragged through a hedge backward while trying to drink a distillery. I didn’t see him when making my first pass down the cross-street because The Promise has a slightly recessed front door under the remnants of what used to be a kind of portico. He’s wearing what must have been decent clothing once but has since suffered years of drek and abuse. His face matches his clothes.