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| Guy walks in a bar u decide the destiny | Started by: kn0name on Nov 25, '16 17:11 |
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On a cool October night a distraught man needing to silence his racing mind goes to his local watering hole and orders scotch on the rocks and 2 tequila shooters |
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Wandering the streets, the light from only local businesses showing her the path, Tammy ducks into a local speak-easy. She approaches the bar and waits for service, noticing a concerned looking man to her side. "G'evenin' mista, ye gonna drink all 'dose ye-self?" |
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| Reply by: TammyDeLuca at Nov 25, '16 18:55 | |
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Seeing Tammy to his left, he nods his head a takes a shot.
"what these? Yea there all mine, whatcha having ill buy. The names Woody, are you from around here?" motions the for the bartender |
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| Reply by: kn0name at Nov 25, '16 20:29 | |
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Smiling, she browses the top shelf, spotting something to her taste. She tip toes against the counter and points to an Irish whiskey. "I'll have 'dat one, mista Woody." Turning to face the man, she leans on the bar. "Tha name be Tabitha Brennan, but please call me Tammy." |
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| Reply by: TammyDeLuca at Nov 25, '16 20:37 | |
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HIIII DADDYYYYYY HighPitchEric devours the bowl of bar pretzels |
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| Reply by: HighPitchEric at Nov 25, '16 20:59 | |
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*grins* "nice to meet you, I have to say these are stout but they get the job done"
The bartender busts out laughing and tosses HighPitchEric a bag pretzels and walks over. I need 2 more of everything and send pretzel monster down there a rum and coke. <font color="#B4B4B4">"so Tammy im new to these parts, whats there to do?"</font> |
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| Reply by: kn0name at Nov 25, '16 22:08 | |
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She glances around the bar, before back at Woody and shrugs. "Nah much in 'dis shite hole." She swigs her drink and swirls the remainder around the glass. "'Dough Vegas is lookin' pretty lively, or Detroit. What d'ya get involved in? What's ya business?" |
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| Reply by: TammyDeLuca at Nov 25, '16 22:24 | |
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As Raylan steps through the swinging doors, he flashes the butt of his pistol at the glaring sociopath in the corner. As he walks up to the bar, he takes a quick inventory of the worst case scenario should shit hit the fan. He counts 3 probable concealers figuring two guns per and at least one sawed-off behind the bar. "eh barkeep, 4 rounds of the good ole Irish." "you know what, screw it, get these hooligans a round too." Raylan flashes a crooked smirk around the bar as he tips one down. |
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| Reply by: Raylan_Givens at Nov 26, '16 01:40 | |
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