The Parfaxitas Lounge - a Dingy techno-Qlippothic nightscene is the overtone to this spot, badly illuminating negahue eloptic bulbs light the place, or maybe not, you seem to notice a few in corners, gangster scum racketeers of all types chill in this spot, just trying to have a cold one and dose some eyedot or other indulgences. The Cigarette machine is frequented by the baby-daemon from the school across the street. A couple badly jacked up dataports here and there, the room is always in excess of 108 or so degrees and drowned out with bad retro-tape recorded punk, unpolished angst sounding like it drones outwardly from a shitty VHS. You kinda dig it here but sense you may wanna lay low for the most part seeing your intoxicated and belligerent company in each square inch of the locale.