Swamped

"So why did the theater close?" You have some idea of this - you weren't the most social person in your youth, but you weren't that isolated. Still, you only know a bit of the story.

"Money, mostly. People just stopped going to the shows. Not everyone, of course, but they just weren't making their expenses back. After a few months of that, they just gave up." They let out a sigh. "A shame, really. Suppose it's better than turning to some shady outfit for funding, though."

Now that has you curious. But something more immediate does, as well.

"So how long has this group been doing shows?"

"About a month, I think. Travelling groups usually come in for about that long, unless the money's looking especially bad or especially good. They don't have as high a budget for their shows, so mostly they just try to get enough for supplies to hit the next town." They bite into the sandwich again. "Oh, of course, there's a few places that just chase 'em out. But they know where most of those towns are by now, so they don't stop by... unless they're looking to recruit runaways, of course."

That answer drifted a bit. But you did get the information you asked for.

"You were sent by the hospital?"

A rather large, annoyed lady with an eyepatch is standing behind the bar.

"Yes. They're a bit busy, so they sent me rather than proper staff." You show the note.

"Wine and ice," she grumbles. "Right, I'll fetch the wine from the cellar. Ice is safe enough. Monty, put down the sandwich and go fetch some."

Your neighbor at the bar groans.

"Boss, I'm on break."

"This is for the hospital, Monty, so you can stay on break if you want to tell the patient's family you were too much of a lazy arse to fetch some goddamn ice."

"Why can't Les do it? Barely anyone's at the bar."

"No, but he's got to handle the tickets now. So you fetch the ice."

Monty lets out a sigh, and puts down their sandwich dejectedly as Patterson heads to the cellar.

"I can help," you suggest.

"You probably can't. This ice comes in pretty heavy bags and you're getting on in years." Monty grumbles. "Because Patterson's too cheap to get smaller chunks. Best thing you can do is make sure nobody else lays a hand on my sandwiches - and you better not, either."

Well. It seems you're waiting for just a little bit longer, but with Monty gone, you'll have to find a new conversational partner if you want to talk.

Then again, perhaps there's something you can do here besides talking.