Avaynu Investigations, Downtown Defiance

You won't find Dylan's office if you go looking for "Avanyu Investigations". The rundown portion of downtown Defiance just has a small office building squeezed between two larger ones, a simple "Private Eye" emblazoned on the front door. There's a mailbox attached to the front wall with an address number, but nothing else.

The interior doesn't brag much, either. It's a cramped two-room establishment, with the front serving as the detective's office. A ceiling fan lazily spins above a faded desk, where an ashtray seems to eternally curl a wisp of smoke into the air, even though Mr. Gray never seems to partake in cigarettes. There's an ink blotter and a bottle of Jack Daniels as well, along with a phone and the other essentials any hard-working dick might need to crack his case. The space heater in the corner pings randomly now and again.

As one spends their time tilted back in an office chair, they might find themselves thinking back to the days of empty streets and classy jazz, half-expecting some broad in a red dress with legs a mile long stepping inside, looking for a gruff ex-cop to save them from their plight. There's a certain wistfulness that seems to hang in the air, a quiet yearning for days long past.

There's a second room leading from the main one, the doorless entrance situated just behind the desk. From the vantage point of a guest's chair, one can see a filing cabinet, along with the foot of a cot.