"It’s dark," protested Milgrim, as Skink grabbed his shoulders, hauling him into a dense, ammoniac reek of urine. Skink shoved him, hard, and he fell back against what were all too obviously stairs, their painful impact complicated by a loud confusion of toppling bottles. "Chill," Milgrim quickly advised an abrupt darkness, Skink having shut the door behind him. "Money’s yours. Here."