Downbeat, unobtrusive, vaguely-familiar popular music faded out as holovision screens flickered to life for the big smashball pre-game show. From his seat at the bar, Jofar "Joey" Rabeak glanced up at one screen. The usual talking heads were already babbling on as if they had any clue about what was going to happen, who would make what play, and how anything about a game played by overpaid - though admittedly hunky - meatheads mattered at all. Joey just sighed and returned his attention to his drink, a half-finished Shownar Breeze, and tuned out the new chatter about the game.

The Wandering Star wasn't a sports bar. It wasn't much of an anything bar, really, which was why Joey had picked it for the evening. Among Jovan's numerous offerings he had some favorite haunts for music, dancing, or drink specials, but how he felt that night called for none of those things. It called for the Wandering Star, and the slice of plain, unassuming, non-invasive normality it delivered.

The distinct lack of theme and focus in both the atmosphere and decor of the bar was part of its charm. It existed, and yet it did not at the same time, a perpetual limbo one could find themselves in. In many ways, it summed up the net effect of Joey's life thus far, and in some way he knew that's what drew him there that evening.

His fuzzy ears pricked at the sound of newcomers entering the bar, and his natural curiosity forced him to turn, half looking toward the door, half using the mirror behind the bar to give him a view without being obvious. Three customers were walking in, two men and one woman, and Joey tracked their progress in the mirror until they took a table by the opposite wall, clearly there to watch the game. A sip of his drink assisted in closing out the outside world once more, and his gaze turned to his own reflection, what little of it he could see between bottles stacked behind the bar. Another sigh, tail flicking idly behind him, and he let his forehead rest against one of his paws, elbow propped on the bar, as he imagined he was going to be the only one looking at himself, that evening. Just like so many evenings before.