The bare bulb buzzed overhead, illuminating limp posters that hung from whitewashed cinderblocks.
“So this is it?” he asked.
Art brushed crumbs off the card table, setting it wobbling. “Times are tough, but I’m sure we can bounce back. We just need more support. Your support.”
“Look, I’m only here because Jenny…”
“Never mind that. Will you join us in our quest?”
Lance cast a glance at the corner, where a senile old man in a bathrobe muttered to himself. He thought about his apartment. He looked at Art’s eyes, shining beneath his cardboard crown.
“My liege,” Lance said, kneeling.
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