Colt smirks a touch at the idea that she hasn't been with the right captain. "Pretty sure all the skyships around Caido? One of 'em had to have had a decent captain by now. Don't think it's their fault, s'all me." Something she isn't sure she'd ever get over, or is inclined to try unless she learns how to sail herself. Maybe get some horses special horseshoes that let 'em walk on water and then she'll never have to board another ship, or just find a way to wrangle that pegasus dream into reality. One day.
"Tella ya what," Colt drawls around smoke, leaning over to put her cigarette out in the tray. "I'll admit the ocean's superior the same day you admit ranchin' is. I'll play at first mate for a week or so and you can come be a ranch hand for a week in return." Her brows rise with the challenge, absolutely expecting there'd be no agreement. Because how could either of them leave what they love so long, certainly not to admit the other's lifestyle is better.
That's not her alternative dare to Thal's decline, to be clear, but her features do sharpen the moment the ancient rejects it. "Listen I don't know what you do with your nipples and your clit. No judgment from me sugar." She holds up her hands around the edge of a laugh. "Let me think, but you're definitely not gettin' out of something," she promises, clambering out of her chair and onto the bartop with a less than graceful maneuver that speaks to the amount of shots she's had. The water and cake and the length of time they've been here (is it already almost last call?) have helped bring her back a touch from the earlier height of bad decisions, but she's still on the edge of drunk to embrace the idea of being a cougar again.
With an exaggerated dip to back that she definitely thinks is haughty and sexy (it's not), Colt prowls down the bar lane on her hands and knees like a cat. A hairless cat. It's more of a sad, wobbly shuffle, liquor the only thing completely hiding her age from her joints as she mrrows and yowls and swats at anything and anyone in her path. Lou definitely has had enough, and with an exasperated roll of his eyes and some cursing, he flags down the bouncer who hauls Colt off roughly. Lou gestures at Thalassa too, deciding they're both done at this point. They'd fucked around plenty all night and now it's just gotten annoying.
Staggering out of the bar at their insistence, Colt whirls around, a laugh bursting free as she leans against the exterior wall. "Alright, alright. Might be time for bed. But first, your hair needs to take a hit too." Colt taps her chin, finding mercy now that the night is ending. "Bleach it blonde."
Round 12: Thal passes on her choice and loses 100MP, gains 1 drunk
Thal passes on her choice | Thal: 0 MP, 3 drunk
Colt did her choice | Colt: 0 MP, 3 drunk
Thal rolled to dye her hair
No more rounds!
"Tella ya what," Colt drawls around smoke, leaning over to put her cigarette out in the tray. "I'll admit the ocean's superior the same day you admit ranchin' is. I'll play at first mate for a week or so and you can come be a ranch hand for a week in return." Her brows rise with the challenge, absolutely expecting there'd be no agreement. Because how could either of them leave what they love so long, certainly not to admit the other's lifestyle is better.
That's not her alternative dare to Thal's decline, to be clear, but her features do sharpen the moment the ancient rejects it. "Listen I don't know what you do with your nipples and your clit. No judgment from me sugar." She holds up her hands around the edge of a laugh. "Let me think, but you're definitely not gettin' out of something," she promises, clambering out of her chair and onto the bartop with a less than graceful maneuver that speaks to the amount of shots she's had. The water and cake and the length of time they've been here (is it already almost last call?) have helped bring her back a touch from the earlier height of bad decisions, but she's still on the edge of drunk to embrace the idea of being a cougar again.
With an exaggerated dip to back that she definitely thinks is haughty and sexy (it's not), Colt prowls down the bar lane on her hands and knees like a cat. A hairless cat. It's more of a sad, wobbly shuffle, liquor the only thing completely hiding her age from her joints as she mrrows and yowls and swats at anything and anyone in her path. Lou definitely has had enough, and with an exasperated roll of his eyes and some cursing, he flags down the bouncer who hauls Colt off roughly. Lou gestures at Thalassa too, deciding they're both done at this point. They'd fucked around plenty all night and now it's just gotten annoying.
Staggering out of the bar at their insistence, Colt whirls around, a laugh bursting free as she leans against the exterior wall. "Alright, alright. Might be time for bed. But first, your hair needs to take a hit too." Colt taps her chin, finding mercy now that the night is ending. "Bleach it blonde."
Round 12: Thal passes on her choice and loses 100MP, gains 1 drunk
Thal passes on her choice | Thal: 0 MP, 3 drunk
Colt did her choice | Colt: 0 MP, 3 drunk
Thal rolled to dye her hair
No more rounds!
Colt
Hole in your heart with some good aim
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
