Partying like its 1969

[shedevilwithsword]

Who| Sonja and anyone who wants to join her
What| Partying it up like a fantasy barbarian
Where| The Swift Cut
When| A few days after the victors crowning
Warnings/Notes| This is Sonja, so expect sexiness, alcohol and lots of meat and possible fighting. As a side note, as many are aware, I'm not exactly speedy with my replies right now.

So, Sonja was hungry, frustrated and itching for a good tumble. And while she found this "restaurant" to be in very poor taste, it still served the most meat out of any of the other place. Mix that with a mug if alcohol, which tasted like piss to her, and she was content. Now all she needed was a pretty thing to keep her company and it would be near perfect.

Still, she couldn't help but glare at some of the stares she may occasionally receive before going back to her food. If they want a fight, then they could start it. No sense in getting further into trouble. Not now anyway, that could be for later. Once everything cooled down then she would freely break their noses and crack their skulls.

But no, instead she focused on her drink and food, the table she was at was a mess by now, and she was starting to feel a bit tipsy, excellent. "More!" She cried out after finishing another mug.

Comments

[hit_girl_mindy]

Mindy was hungry. She was also in one of those states where, after another day of training and ignoring potential triggers for things, she could use some company, whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not. She was seated at another table, not so much noticing everyone else right now: when Mindy wanted to be ignored, she decidedly had it in her head no one else was that important either.

Of course, she was still sporting her brand on her face, so that was impossible now. As much as she wanted peace, there was no escaping certain looks some people gave her, and Mindy was all too ready to get up and show them what happened if they so much as spat in her direction, punishment be damned. Luckily for her, someone else here was certainly attracting more attention: with Sonja's usual garb and demeanor, likely they were paying less attention to her mark.

Perfect: if for no other reason, it'd be good to be around someone she knew and could talk to.

She walked over, more than a little pleased to see her sparring partner. "Mind if I come and drink and eat with you? Getting the cold shoulder on my end, and if that happens,bound to be thrown out of this bar for being disorderly."

Which meant she'd be throwing people out of the fucking window, of course.

[samson]

Brock has been in this godforsaken place for over a week now. When he first arrived, he went on something like a three-day bender just because he didn't want to deal with everything, the implications and what the future held. As he began to sober up, though, he found that there were maybe some things that he could do here that could make a difference here. That was always more important to him than anything else; something to focus on instead of impending personal miseries and horror.

That said, he's still pretty interested in drinking. If only because most people tended to be a little loose-lipped when they're well enough into their cups.

This particular restaurant isn't one he's been to before, having skipped it when he was going on his extended bar crawl last week. It's... interesting. He might not get any information here, but maybe he'll get like a nice piece of lamb or something.

Or, he thinks as he notices the redhead over there screaming about booze, a nice piece of something else.

He signals to one of the weird barbarian-dressed employees that he wants to buy that woman a drink, and she's summarily bussed over another mug, courtesy of that blond guy over there.