Thalassa
If she was less drunk, Thal would probably be angry at the laughter pointed her way, but she isn't, and the tattoo really is funny; so she lowers her hand, letting the tattoo hide beneath her clothes as she clumsily props herself on a stool and reaches for another drink. She can regret it in the morning, but for now she laughs along with Colt, not really minding how stupid it looks.
Grinning in victory at another round won, she dangles a fresh glass of bourbon in her fingers. It's apparent that Colt has gotten ahead in their race of inebriation - not that Thal minds. The smile on her face is refusing to leave, a stubborn expression now that it's been freed from captivity. It's easy when worries are washing away in the current of liquor and humor, spurred on by decisions that will certainly look worse when the sun rises.
Her elbow slips to find purchase on the counter, trying to look smug as Colt declares her intent for a tattoo. "It better be just as stupid!" she calls as the woman books it to the parlor in the back, chuckling to herself and anyone in the proximity as she does her best to catch up.
Thal takes a gulp of bourbon (her third glass since her wait has begun), nearly spitting it out when Colt's fingers come prancing up to the bar. Smacking a hand against her chest, she coughs out a laugh that makes her eyes water, too amused to hold back. She raises her own fingers and playfully sticks out her tongue. "Oh ho ho. I hope those aren't the fingers you use to masturbate." Her eyebrows and fingers wiggle suggestively, although subtlety left this party hours ago.
Ignoring the boring water, she leans forward (nearly tipping out of her chair). There's a challenge in her hazy eyes, a fluidity to her smile. "Give me truth. You haven't even gotten to the juicy stuff." And Thal is nearly begging to spill it all at this point. What's another secret spilled when they probably won't even remember tonight?
Thal chooses truth.
Grinning in victory at another round won, she dangles a fresh glass of bourbon in her fingers. It's apparent that Colt has gotten ahead in their race of inebriation - not that Thal minds. The smile on her face is refusing to leave, a stubborn expression now that it's been freed from captivity. It's easy when worries are washing away in the current of liquor and humor, spurred on by decisions that will certainly look worse when the sun rises.
Her elbow slips to find purchase on the counter, trying to look smug as Colt declares her intent for a tattoo. "It better be just as stupid!" she calls as the woman books it to the parlor in the back, chuckling to herself and anyone in the proximity as she does her best to catch up.
Thal takes a gulp of bourbon (her third glass since her wait has begun), nearly spitting it out when Colt's fingers come prancing up to the bar. Smacking a hand against her chest, she coughs out a laugh that makes her eyes water, too amused to hold back. She raises her own fingers and playfully sticks out her tongue. "Oh ho ho. I hope those aren't the fingers you use to masturbate." Her eyebrows and fingers wiggle suggestively, although subtlety left this party hours ago.
Ignoring the boring water, she leans forward (nearly tipping out of her chair). There's a challenge in her hazy eyes, a fluidity to her smile. "Give me truth. You haven't even gotten to the juicy stuff." And Thal is nearly begging to spill it all at this point. What's another secret spilled when they probably won't even remember tonight?
Thal chooses truth.
Never been the type to
Let someone see right through
Let someone see right through
