Thalassa
Standing there, killing time,
Can't commit to anything but a crime
Can't commit to anything but a crime
She doesn't sip on the bourbon, downing it to wash the recent pain and fear from her system. The initial burn isn't enough to sear it away, and she indicates sharply for the bartender to pour her another while she scoffs a heavy breath at Colt's comment. "An understatement." After all, she'd almost died. Luckily, the fountain has patched up the blood and physical injuries, but it doesn't change that Vesper had almost killed her.
Thal's eyes are still scanning the bar, content to find something to distract her until the opportunity lands like lead against her ears. She looks away from the pile of nonsense the woman had brought with her to the raised brow that's thrown her direction. It's an innocent enough question, but it immediately has her wishing for more alcohol to dampen the flood of emotions that come with saying his name. "Vesper?" There are a million and one things she'd love to say, the tender emotions eating at her.
At that moment, her savior appears, refilling the amber liquor in her glass like liquid courage. She reaches for it, a forced nonchalance as she shrugs her shoulders. "Just that, he's a bastard, an asshole, whatever other expletive you want to give him." It'll take a lot more alcohol for her spill more than that to a stranger, but she's already taking another long swig of her drink, a bitter curiosity eating at her. He'd said her name, had come when she'd called. It makes her wonder, "You know him?"
Thal's eyes are still scanning the bar, content to find something to distract her until the opportunity lands like lead against her ears. She looks away from the pile of nonsense the woman had brought with her to the raised brow that's thrown her direction. It's an innocent enough question, but it immediately has her wishing for more alcohol to dampen the flood of emotions that come with saying his name. "Vesper?" There are a million and one things she'd love to say, the tender emotions eating at her.
At that moment, her savior appears, refilling the amber liquor in her glass like liquid courage. She reaches for it, a forced nonchalance as she shrugs her shoulders. "Just that, he's a bastard, an asshole, whatever other expletive you want to give him." It'll take a lot more alcohol for her spill more than that to a stranger, but she's already taking another long swig of her drink, a bitter curiosity eating at her. He'd said her name, had come when she'd called. It makes her wonder, "You know him?"
