Thalassa
Standing there, killing time,
Can't commit to anything but a crime
Can't commit to anything but a crime
It shouldn't surprise anyone that Thal is itching for a fight. Her emotions are raw and there's never a time she doesn't want to draw blood, but this time feels sharper, a need pulling at her thoughts after nearly being decapitated. The slit of her blue gaze is deadlier than any blade, sweeping the bar as she precedes Colt. Her finger taps demandingly at the wood. "Bourbon."
With the Hanged Man gone, she's had to downgrade to the dingey bar down the road, and she's still trying to decide if she's willing to put up with the disapproving glare of the bartender. Maybe he notices the way she's always searching the crowd for trouble - or for someone to start trouble with. At least he doesn't say anything, popping the cork to pour her a glass along with whatever Colt wants, even if he slips back to the corner, putting distance between him and whatever hell they plan to unleash, just waiting for the spark to catch.
With the Hanged Man gone, she's had to downgrade to the dingey bar down the road, and she's still trying to decide if she's willing to put up with the disapproving glare of the bartender. Maybe he notices the way she's always searching the crowd for trouble - or for someone to start trouble with. At least he doesn't say anything, popping the cork to pour her a glass along with whatever Colt wants, even if he slips back to the corner, putting distance between him and whatever hell they plan to unleash, just waiting for the spark to catch.
