Each of Their Own Ulterior Motives

It was just an ordinary and humble little pub.

The fishermen bawled, shoving the wooden door open and making their way into the pub. They waved their arms, approached the counter with a series of vulgar laughter, and reached their hands out to smack the plump buttocks of the average-looking waitresses donned in low-cut maid dresses. They lifted the mugs, draining the alcohol in one gulp and conversed loudly with other customers in the pub, sharing stories of how one incidentally witnessed a young farmer lady stepping out of the bath to the recent harvests from the ocean. All sorts of rumors and strange stories filled the pub, as well as the smell of sweat, alcohol, and food. It was crowded for everyone except for a particular customer seated in the corner.