Participants:
| Scene Title | Hold Your Liquor |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Members of Phoenix celebrate their day of miracles a the Surly Wench. |
| Date | November 22, 2008 |
A punk rock pub through and through, The Surly Wench is dim, cramped, and incredibly popular. It's a small, rectangular venue with a bar bordering one entire wall. Despite this, ordering a drink on a weekend can be an exercise in line-waiting and rib-elbowing. There are a few small tables ringed with high stools for seating, but these are prime real estate. The majority of the patrons are forced to stand shoulder-to-shoulder on any given night. Almost half of the cramped interior is devoted to a low stage for live music. There's no dance floor. If you feel the need, you'll have to thrash in place.
The Surly Wench is crowded on a Saturday night. It's made moreso by the fact that several members of Phoenix have gathered hear to celebrate a well executed Miracle Day. Helena's by the bar, watching a few of the membership thrash their hearts out while she nurses a Red Stripe.
Saturday night. In the rock past, someone sang it was all right for fighting, to get a little action in. There's no fighting going on here, but people are getting the action in well enough. Plenty of them are drunker than a barrel full of monkeys, about as oiled as a diesel train and then some. But Cat isn't among this throng, she's onstage working the crowd. Clad in the dark clothing she uses to evoke feline imagery and prowling the stage, she's got her guitar and voice put to the task she enjoys using them for. And, of course, her customary table near the stage sits with the instrument case leaning against it, her backpack in an empty chair, and a pint of stout on the surface.
Somewhere in the crowd, Owen is cutting loose, blissfully fuzzy on why they're celebrating. He has an entirely different definition of what 'Miracle Day' means. He also evidently has a different perspective on what 'dancing' is, because he's shaking it up like the fabled pop rocks plus soda pop experiment without a care in the world. Smiles whose exuberance owe primarily to the dwindling amount of blood in his alcohol-stream are cast to familiar faces as he spots them between the bobbing, dancing bodies all around him.
Con does not do thrashing. At least not the dance type. Hell, if you asked him he probably couldn't tell him a single use of the word he partakes in. But he does drink. Oh does he drink. Currently he's got a straight brandy, and it's his third. He's getting drunk tonight. And he's been shelling out a suspiciously copious amount of cash. People who know him well ought to realize he doesn't have a job and doesn't actually WORK per se. Anyway, he's definitely determined to have a good time and is getting liquored up hard enough to make a go of it. Sitting at the bar, he's turned to watch the stage and making funny fucked up faces at Cat, knowing that if she notices even one (and maybe if she doesn't) she might be haunted by them.
Helena keeps to her perch at the bar, next to Con. His effort at pulling mugs at Cat causes her to laugh. "You know she's not gonna fall for that, right?" She doesn't have to raise her voice - she knows Conrad will hear her. Swigging her Red Stripe, she lets out a whoop and sets her beer down to applaud Owen out on the dance floor. "Look at him go!"
One of those mugs is caught, and she almost falters in her stagecraft. Conrad's reward is a scowl, and the sight of her back as she turns it to avoid seeing another. Cat's moved on to a different segment of this crowd, making eye contact here and there as she goes about her performance. The occasional eye is cast toward her spot, to be sure none of the gear or the stout there is disturbed.
"It worked!" Con says with glee, nudging Helena just so he's sure she knows. "She's so damned serious. Where'd you find her anyway? The serious Artsy Fartsy Chick Agency?" He takes a sip of the brandy, slowing down some on it now that he's nursing the buzz. "Hot, though. And good, I'll give her that."
"I think she likes you," asides Owen, as he settles into a good leaning spot on the bar next to Conrad, tilting a bottle toward Cat onstage. Apparently he got tired of dancing, and picked up a beer at some point between deciding that and leaving his former spot near the stage.
"She went to Harvard." Helena remarks, and pauses. "Or maybe it was Yale. Some Ivy League. I used to find her very intimidating."
Fortunately for Helena, Cat didn't hear that remark, or she might be cross. Maybe even surly to match the name. Not that anyone can tell she isn't when she performs here, there's a certain attitude and style of behavior shown in keeping with the ambience. Conrad has seen her use it on his previous visit, as has Helena. Or anyone else who's been around when she plays. Oblivious to what many Yale alumnae would consider fighting words, being accused of Harvardness, she plays on.
"Nah, kid." replies Con to Owen, shaking his head. "She's not even the same species as me. She wants some hugely talented well-to-do, deep…somethin'…" He trails off, not bothering to follow the train of thought to its station. He points at Helena with his drink-hand, finger pointing at her from around the shotglass as he shakes it perilously close to spilling. "You don't have any reason to be intimidated by anybody. Glad yer growing up enough to see it. Anyway fancy school doesn't make you worth shit. It's all in who you are. And who you know." He grins then, "And you know me." Kills his shotglass.
Owen opens his mouth and uncurls a finger from around his beer bottle, poised to explain that he was being sarcastic, but concludes it was both obvious and a moot point and settles for knocking back the remainder of the bottle's contents before leaning over to chime in, "And me," to tack on to the end of Conrad's statement, with a grin that conveys his sarcasm with a glaring and unmistakable lack of subtlety.
Helena smirks. "Oh, boy. If I'm judged by the company I keep, I am so screwed." she salutes both men with her beer and takes another swig. Then, with a satisfied sigh, "I'm glad things went well. Now we can get down to the srz biznuss." She says it just like that as her eyes scan the crowd.
"If you think that's bad," muses a feminine voice approaching the group of gathered Phoenix at the bar, "imagine the judgment I face." A statement that should convey concern for one's social standing is spoken by a woman completely unconcerned. Claire Bennet grins at the crew should she actually catch their attention.
"Well looky here." remarks Conrad, a tad bit louder than is polite but still not much for this establishment. He eyes Claire and somehow manages to not say anything at all when by all rights he should probably be saying something jerky. He orders another brandy instead. Want some more of that juice. "What's your poison, Owen? Want me to buy you a drink too?" The last he addresses to Claire.
Owen returns Helena's salute with a grin that remains as he turns to acknowledge the new arrival. His brows raise and his mouth opens, but he asides to respond to Conrad. "Oh, whatever this is. Can't pronounce it," he explains, showing the label on his bottle. "Hi, Claire," he offers, returning his attention to her.
When the menfolk start addressing the new arrival, Helena's head turns. The first emotion flooding her face is relief, and she gets up off her stool to cross the distance and give Claire a hug. "Hey," she says, "Are you okay? I mean, is everything okay?" She tries to tug her over to the bar, get her up on a stool. "I left messages for you." Because she needed to talk. "Did you get them?"
Claire hugs Helena back just as tightly, if not more. Despite the aloof exterior, she misses her friend. "I almost wasn't sure if it was you," she murmurs as she's tugged over to take a seat. "You're buying your own clothes now? Or do you borrow from someone else?" She shoots a glance and a hesitant smile to the boys in turn. To Conrad, she says, "Only if you actually want to. Jack and cherry."
Onstage, the musician approaches the end of her set, and lets her eyes wander out over the crowd. It's a punk bar, so what she has next in mind might not sit well with this audience, but, hey, the punk tradition is about defying convention, embracing rebellion, and all that So Cat opts to do what she feels like doing. "Forty years ago, a classic was released. It had a pure white cover, with only the band's name on it. Since then, a lot of acts have cribbed the idea in some fashion. So this might not be something you enjoy, but, well, you can like it or be mad for a very long time!"
Speaking is over: she resumes playing and the lyrics cut in quickly. "I told you about strawberry fields, you know the place where nothing is real…"
Eagerly Con orders another import whatever it is Owen's drinking and a Jack and cherry for Claire. Though he remarks, "Here I go ordering drinks for underage girls again." Though if he really cared he'd just quit doing it, right? "Drinks on me tonight up to the amount of…" Suddenly he thinks to pull the wallet out of the inside pocket of his New England Patriots jacket and count, "…five hundred bucks." Where he got that money is his secret.
Helena snorts. "Don't be ridiculous. I stole all your best crap." Taking a seat on the stool, Helena takes Claire in a moment, not that there's much to worry about when it comes to Claire remaining intact. "I'm glad you came. For myself, I haven't seen you in a while, but I also need a favor."
At some point Owen became preoccupied with trying to pronounce the name on the label of his bottle, and one tangent bled into another and now there is an origami giraffe of glinting foil paper sitting on the bar next to a bottle bearing telltale remnants of paper where a label once was. And no Owen. He's vanished into the crowd again, and his thrashing-about has carried him beneath a spotlight in the midst of several like-minded (if less animated) dancers.
"Is that why I can't find my red heels?" Claire rolls her eyes at Helena and murmurs a thank-you to Conrad as her drink arrives in front of her. She jumps a bit and pats around in her coat until she procures a cell phone. "I have to take this. Give me just a few minutes?" She drapes a cocktail napkin over the top of her glass and scurries off to take her call outside.
"Well ain't just typical? I buy the girl a drink and she takes off with it!" observes Con loudly, pointedly making no mention of Owen doing almost the same thing. He doesn't matter! He looks at Helena pointedly and asks her, "So, any word from Wal-Mart yet? Y'know…Wal-Mart." The way he says that seems to be code for something. "Because I haven't heard jack."
Helena blinks. "Wal-Mart?" she has no idea what he's on about, and then lower, "Listen, when Claire comes back, can you set up a privacy bubble for us? I don't care if you listen in, but I need to talk freely with her." Despite the din of the punk club, she knows Conrad will hear her.
Enter Brian. Just one. The young man enters the club and is entirely out of place. For once in his life he is overdressed rather than underdressed. Looking spiffy, freshly shaven and even his hair combed the young man actually looks nice tonight. A black pinstriped shirt and a pair of dark jeans the man weaves his way through the place, grey eyes searching for familiar faces.
Shortly after Brian enters the door pops open again, this time via Rosa. Strangely, she's turned around the wrong way and comes in backwards. This is at least partly explained by the fact that as she enters she calls out to someone still outside, "-eh yeah, fuck off asshole." Something is called back to her but its lost to the din of the bar and she responds only by flipping the otherwise soon forgotten man the bird. Once inside she pauses just long enough to shake her head, and then goes about elbowing and sliding her way through the crowd to get to the bar.
ORDER: Owen Claire Cat Conrad Helena Brian Rosa
"Sure thing." Con offers with a wink. "Glad you asked before I had too many. I get too shitfaced and nothing I do works right." His attention goes to the new ones coming in, and he beams. "I love this place. It's loud and obnoxious and so fuckin' HONEST." Fistpump! Isn't that punk, at its heart? Never mind that he's dressed to fit in about as well as Brian. "So anyway, met a girl you might be interested in, Hel. She was a cop. I know her. We can talk about it later but I think she might be interested in having a Conversation."
"Oh yeah?" Helena perks in interest. Because Con's got a way with words, and sound - he can hear that capital C. "Give her information to Sergei and see what he can get on her. He's got an in with the cops, so he might be able to get the size of her."
While the conversations go on amid the loudness within this punk club, the source of that loudness plays on. Cat's still in the middle of Glass Onion, but approaching the song's end.
Conrad may not be shitfaced, but he is a little drunk. "She's kinda small. Like five-six." He blinks. "That's not what you meant. I'm drunk." He shakes his head. Looks at his currently-full shotglass. "Shit. Oh well. Yeah I'll let ol' Serge know." He just stays right where he's at at the bar, trying to convince himself he doesn't have to go pee yet.
In some ways being tiny can assist one in making their way to the liquid disbersement center in a crowded bar. Like, you fit in small holes and every once in a while someone will be kind enough to move aside for you. But then its also a burden in that in makes /moving/ them when they don't do it on their own that much more difficult. Luckily, Rosa has this nearly down to a science and before too long (and with only a minor assortment of bruises) she's made the bar. The last person she has to maneuver around, however, bumps into her. Hard to say for sure in the environment whether or not it was on purpose, but it does send Rosa smashing into… Conrad. Rosa turns and shoves the guy responsible, but ill intentions or no he was facing the other way and is soon lost amidst the general crowd. Turning back around with a shake of her head, she says, "Asshole." Then she looks to Conrad and shrugs, "Sorry. Kinda." She puts her elbows up on the bar and starts actively trying to get the bartender's attention.
Brian weaves through the crowd and arrives near Conrad and Helena. Though he pauses as Rosa crashes in front of him. A brow is arched as he goes to try and get eye contact with Helena, making a little wave to her. Conrad would be greeted but he's.. busy.
Helena looks amused. "You are drunk." she says to Conrad, and her eyebrow goes up as a one woman somewhat body-checks him. "Rude, much." she says under her breath, and when she spies the bearded replicator, she lifts a hand, waving at him.
Conrad feels someone bodycheck him.
His glass spills on his lap, soaking into his crotch and making it look like very bad.
He blinks and sits there for an exaggerated moment and looks around at the girl who did that. Says in that too-matter-of-fact way, "You made me spill my drink. Look." Of course he didn't see the ultimate cause of it. As far as he knows this girl just rammed him for totally no reason.
Silence arrives, well, not so much, but the place does get quieter. Cat finishes her set and strides offstage to where her gear and pint of stout are waiting. There's no explanation of what she's doing or how long she'll be doing it for; she just does it.
Rosa finally manages to get the bartenders attention, and they meander over to their cozy little section of bar estate. "Jack Daniels," She raises her voice enough to be heard over the din and holds up four fingers. Once the 'tender nods she turns to look over at Conrad with a raised eyebrow of her own. "Its a bar, dude. Shit happens. Besides, I said sorry even though that jackass…" She turns to indicate said jackass, but he's long since been lost to the myriad of bar folk all around them. "Well, tall guy with a dumb ass look on his face, pushed me." By the end of her rebuttal the shots of JD arrive and she slides one in front of Conrad. "Peace offering," She says with what you could call a grin before knocking back the first of the shots in front of her.
Brian makes his way to Helena, giving her a little smile. "Hey." He says sidling up next to her at the bar. "Aren't you too young to be in here?" He asks with a playful smirk. A glance is offered to Conrad and his new best friend. "Hey bro." He offers, he only barely met the man before. But having heard more of him, since. Rosa is given a quizzical expression until she offers a drink. That's nice.
"I don't know what you're talkng about." Helena says blithely. "I'm twenty-one." That's a big ol' lie of course, but it's what her ID says. She casts her eyes briefly toward the door as if expecting someone, before returning her smile to Brian. "But I'm glad things went off so well."
Having seen the others at the bar while she played, Cat takes her pint and starts weaving her way through the masses to reach them. She isn't small like Rosa, the twenty-something is five-eight tall, so the going is a bit slower. People giving way out of respect for her playing helps, but only goes so far in such thick occupancy.
Conrad gives Rosa a very skeptical look, like she's lucky he's in a good mood or something. "If you weren't smokin' hot, you'd be in big trouble." he warns, taking the offered shot and downing it, because you never turn down offered booze in any form. With a sigh he turns to Helena and looks at his pants. "Looks like I pissed myself. God. Of all the places to spill this shit. I might as well get a glass of water and douse the rest of me so it blends and nobody can tell…"
One shot, two shot, Oh God this shit tastes like a giant vat of liquified rat ass mixed with gasoline but ah fuck-it you only live once, three shot. Rosa slams the last shot glass down with a sickenly distortion of her facial features. What comes out next is probably somewhat similar to a cough, but sounds more like a quiet 'ah' building up in a gradual crescendo to something that can actually be heard in the din of the bar. A swift shake of the head is in order and a cone of air is ejected from between her lips. This necessary drinking ritual complete she turns to Conrad and tugs gently on his sleeve, since this is what she was doing while he was talking, and he's since turned his back on her.
Another smirk is directed to Helena. "You're twenty one, and I'm fourteen." Sometimes he acts like it, but that is beside the point. The man smirks at Conrad and his worries about his pants. "Me too. I trust I did good enough. Maybe I can do something a little more important next time." Brian leans in towards Helena to let out a small whisper. "Like getting caught." Partially to tease and annoy her, and partially to further his plan. Brian eyes the woman down Conrad and watches with wide eyes as she slams down the liquor. "Wow.." He says quietly…
Helena gives Brian a mild glare to the tune of 'stop fucking talking about it, man'. Then she looks to Conrad with what may be surprising sympathy. "Can't help you, mate." she tells him. Yeah. She could generate enough wind to dry out his pants, sure - but she'd knock over him and half the bar while doing it. Another glance is issued toward the door. At Cat's arrival, she lifts up her bottle of Red Stripe in greeting.
Tug on sleeve, and Conrad turns back around. Blinks. Looks at Rosa. Looks at empty shotglasses. "Holy shit did you just pound all those?" he asks. "Hel, Bri, check this girl out. She drinks like I do!" Which is to say she drinks with totally no foreplay. Con then offhandedly orders a glass of water.
A greeting which the woman with the feline name and stage emulation returns in kind with her pint of stout. A healthy drink is taken from it, she uses her fingers to clear away foam from her upper lip afterward. Nods go to the others around her, those she recognizes. Cat places her back against the bar when she finally gets there.
Rosa looks over at the empty glasses and then back to Conrad. "Yes." She says, seeming to look the man and his entourage over before going on. "Forgive me, mister," She even flashes her absolutely sweetest smile at the older man, "but what kind of trouble would I be in, exactly? Like… piss my pants, in trouble?" As she says the words her eyes drift down to Conrad's spill zone significantly before returning to his face. She cocks her head to one side and loops her thumbs in the top of either side of her dickies, causing her riding jacket to pool up around them.
A little smile is given to Cat as she arrives. "Hey." Is offered to her. Though Brian's attention is mostly controlled by Conrad, except for a coy look given to Helena after her irritated glance. Smirking at Conrad, "I think she's challenging you bro."
"I hope not, since I kinda need him to be reasonably sober." Helena admits. "But if that weren't the case, I'd put my money on him."
Conrad turns more fully to face Rosa, glancing back at Brian as if to acknowledge what he's said. But he eyes Rosa challengingly before saying, "Sure seems that way, doesn't it? Where's my water?" Glance. There's his water. It was there before he asked for it, and he takes it and very casually just dumps some of it down his shirt. Of course the casualness stops once he does that and he hisses. "FUCKING cold…Ah!" Okay, so he's not your everyday jerk either. He's an unusual jerk. "So you wanna know what trouble you'd be in?" he asks Rosa conversationally. "I've been known to be a lot of trouble. More than a little princess like yourself probably knows how to handle."
Content to observe on her break between sets, Cat just drinks her stout slowly and remains quiet.
"Ah, gee…" Rosa bites on her lower lip and looks up at Conrad through her lashes. Then, as suddenly as the act came, its gone. A wry grin forms on her face and disappointment is evident in her tone. "Ah, fuck it. 'A little princess'? Seriously, dude. That just killed it. You're drunk; I'll even buy you another shot if you want. Just keep your hands to yourself and we won't have any problems." She can't help but laugh as she leans over the bar and goes about getting that damn bartender's attention again.
"Damned straight I'm drunk." retorts Con, pointing at Rosa as if the point must literally be made. "I'm not even HERE for you. Don't buy me anymore drinks, don't dump anymore shit on me," as if she did to begin with, "and…" He looks over his shoulder at Brian as if hoping for another idea for his list. Doesn't wait for an answer. "I'll get back to you on the rest." Beat. "Hi, I'm Conrad, nice to meet you." Offers a hand to shake.
Brian is about to pipe up, though he stops once Conrad turns his head back away from him. A little shrug, leaning against the bar the young man looks over to cat. "Um. I'm supposed to talk to you about something." He murmurs, maybe not loudly enough over the roar of the Wench.
Rosa is forced to blink several times as Conrad goes schizo on her. At the end of it she looks away just long enough to do a self assessment. Convienently the bartender has arrived by this point, so she holds up those same four fingers and pulls out a roll of cash. She leaves enough on the bar to cover the drinks plus a nice gratuity. Then she looks back to Conrad and shakes his hand. "You're a psycho motherfucker. But at least you amuse me. I'm Rosa."
Conrad gets to hit on a hot girl and Brian is stuck between the silent sister. Receiving no reply from Cat he looks back to Helena, seeing if she wants to talk.. or tell jokes.. or hit him in the head and tell him to shut the fuck up. Anything! This party is getting real boring, real fast. Finally Brian turns around to order his own shots.
She needs to be back on stage at some point, but Cat being who she is forgets nothing. A few steps are taken to close the distance so she can speak with Brian. "I've got my eyes open," she states, "we'll look over places soon enough." Then she's moving away, this not being the place to discuss business even if she weren't the stage act.
"I'm not really psycho." Conrad says dully. Then he fails to elaborate on that. "Yooooou're gonna drink all that again? Wow. I'm gonna watch." Then Rosa will probably act more like Con does. He props an elbow on the bar and supports his chin on a hand, watching like it's a show. Without even turning around he says, "I don't think Claire's comin' back, Hel." It'll carry clear as day to Helena though, or should.
Helena pushes away from the bar. "I think you're right, so I'm gonna jet." she says. "Conrad, don't do anything I wouldn't - oh, nevermind. You will. Brian, I'll see you later…break a leg, Cat!" she yells out.
Rosa picks up on the fact that Helena is leaving, and even if they haven't exchanged a word, she apparently feels it is necessary to respond to this state of affairs. "Later creepy dude's high school girlfriend! Don't worry, he ain't going home with me." Then she turns and downs the first shot. This time, she isn't sucking them down in multiples however. To Conrad, "Hey, you amuse me when you're crazy. Don't go all.. creepy, stalker.. 'I wanna watch' on me, now." She looks over at Brian, "Hey, who's that guy?" Drunk? Naw. Buzzed? Definitely.
Seeya." Brian says with a lazy smile to Helena. His shot glass is picked up and downed quickly. Though Brian isn't the alcoholic beast that Conrad and Rosa seem to be, a comical looking grimace sweeps over his face as the alcohol slips down through his system. A little groan is emitted as he clenches his fists for half a second. "Woo." He says with a smirk, looking over to Rosa and Conrad. Hey she's talking about him.. Pretend not to notice, Bri, look the other way.
"Shut up and drink." Con says to Rosa, grinning. No response on the creep accusations. He glances around to Brian and says by way of introduction, "This is my friend Brian. He's…" Con actually takes a moment to look hard at Brian. "You okay, Bri? You look like you're about to toss it, man. Need to go to the bathroom and say hi to the Tidy Bowl Man?"
Helena snorts. "Conrad's like my big brother. Trust me, if you want to take him home, be my guest." She offers everyone a salute, and heads out.
Rosa laughs when Helena speaks. Like, no, not comic strip giggling at someone saying a funny word. She laughs. Then she frowns, just a little. "Sorry creepy dude." Shot number two. Brian is the next victim of randomness. "Brian? Well hullo there Creepy Guy Number Two." She looks back over at Conrad, "You're friend Brian is kinda shy."
Shit. Once he is pointed out he gives a sigh. Shaking his head, Brian comes over to join Conrad and Rosa. "Fine." He says simply, looking a little more fine now indeed. He reaches across Conrad to offer his hand to Rosa. Even though she already knows his name, "Brian." He offers with his best charming smile. But the smile is shattered with her greeting. Creepy? Creepy! He all but glares for a moment. And that is enough to shut him up as he goes to lean against the bar. Hmph.
"I think she calls everybody creepy." says Conrad, offering Brian a little sympathy. It's not seeming to bother him. He watches Rosa drink some more and tells her, "You might notice, neither one of us really belongs here. And I'm talking about us." he thumbs himself in the chest and indicates Brian. "You, I dunno where the hell you belong."
"Wherever the fuck I feel like it." Then, she burps. Just a little. C'mon, thats a /lot/ of Jack to consume in a short period of time. In any event, this is cause to take the third shot. Starting to run low… "Get in where you fit in, bro. Although I'm getting the idea you wouldn't have pointed it out if you didn't have some fascinating story as to why you're here?" She waves to Brian, "Hi, shy-somewhat-less-creepy guy."
I'm not shy. I'm not creepy. Of course, those things go unsaid. To argue something like that would be childish. Brian is not childish. "I'm not shy." He states matter of factly. Then watches as she continues to pour down the alcohol. His eyes go a little wide. "Did you drive here?" He asks, a touch of concern on his face.
"I think she calls everybody creepy." says Conrad, offering Brian a little sympathy. It's not seeming to bother him. He watches Rosa drink some more and tells her, "You might notice, neither one of us really belongs here. And I'm talking about us." he thumbs himself in the chest and indicates Brian. "You, I dunno where the hell you belong."
"Not drunk enough to tell ya." says Conrad to Rosa with a grin. "Shouldn't anyway. Tell you what…I'm gonna get the hell outta here, you," he points at Rosa, "can stay here, get drunk, and wake up in the morning with some other stranger. And I'm gonna go home and I'm gonna change out of my nasty wetass clothes and crash." He gets off his barstool and has to steady himself briefly. Steeling himself, he sniffs and says, "Let's see how far I make it before the cops pick me up for public intoxication. Heh. G'night Bri!"
"Ah, thanks for permission. Jackass." This, of course, is accompanied with a friendly wave to the departing Conrad. Four shots; weee! She looks back to Brian after the obligatory head-shake-wind-blow routine. She grabs the zipper of her riding jacket and waves it around. "Rode, actually. And no, I'm not leaving my bike here. Can't abandon my baby." She does offer a smile, though. "You're sweet, but I've got this down to a science. As long as I'm under ten shots, I'll make it home just fine."
"Conrad. I'm pick you up man." A glance to Rosa. "I'll have one of my friends pick you up. Just hang outside.. I'll have him swoop by in…" Psychic connection check… "Ten minutes." The man calls after Conrad. Then a look back to Rosa. "You're going to kill somebody. Isn't.. that illegal?" Brian asks with an arched brow.
"Yer welcome, bitch!" Con says brightly to Rosa, walking steadily but too-carefully past Brian and toward the door. "Man, everything's illegal. We're illegal. I'm a walking outlaw. Fuckit." Normally he might be more altruistic, maybe, but he's either not listening to the argument about Rosa not riding her bike home or maybe it just doesn't register.
"Killing someone? Yes, I assume it is. Unless its self defense… but then there was all that shit about taking away that defense. So I don't know." The bartender makes his way back to Rosa by this point but she just shakes her head and gestures to the cash on the bar before her. Fortified on all sides with shot glasses. "But the only way someone is dying because of me tonight would have nothing to do with my driving, dearie."
Patting the counter, Brian gives her a little smile before taking a step away from the bar. "Have a great night, lady." The young man says, as he starts to make his own way after Conrad and out the door.
Any additional notes fall to the bottom.
 November 22nd: Chasing Rainbows |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 November 23rd: Witness Protection: It Sucks |