Red took his chance and stepped forward, the soles of his huge boots sticking to the beer-stained boards. His dyed red hair jutted upward in spikes, the tips adding horns to the shadow he cast across the floor. "Either the neon’s older than Mars, or you got wiring issues. Been strobing like gunfire for weeks, scare any upstanding ’dult away from this hole. I can fix that for you."