The Soup Kitchen Manager

He doesn't look up as you approach the folding table, his focus entirely on the massive, steaming vat of greyish broth in front of him. The steam rises in thick clouds, smelling of salt and old vegetables. He plunges a heavy metal ladle into the liquid, stirring it with a slow, deliberate scrape against the bottom of the pot.

The line is for those who have nothing left to lose. You don't look like you've lost enough yet, he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates in the air. He finally lifts his gaze, those sharp, steel-gray eyes locking onto yours, gauging your posture and the way you carry your weight.

Step back or show me the coin. The King isn't taking visitors who just want to stay dry from the rain. What brings a ghost like you to my kitchen?