After hours [an RP thread for eamescommaalex]
OOC: Since I haven't yet "recharged" Wheeler's verse as it were [see this post for more details], I'm going to say this is set for mid-Season 7, not long after her canon return to MCS. Also, other members of MCS are welcome to join in if they want.
Megan walked into the bar in lower Manhattan and looked around. The place was full, but not overly crowded, typical for the end of a week. The clientele was mixed - a handful of middle-aged, working class people, some hipsters and some others who just blended in with the background. They could be secretaries or lawyers or grocery store clerks, or, in Megan’s case, cops. She liked this bar - there were no tourists, the beer was decently priced and while she occasionally saw another cop or two, it was not a cop bar. Cop bars could be fun and they had a certain usefulness, but sometimes it was just nice to be somewhere without the job.
Taking off her scarf from around her neck, Megan slid into a booth, midway back. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the menu. Buffalo wings sounded good at the moment. She’d had a brief lunch, sometime earlier in the day. She couldn’t quite remember. While Logan could easily eat several hotdogs or pizza slices or small countries in the five or ten minutes that usually ended up being their “lunch hour”, Megan usually wound up with indigestion if she ate greasy food too fast.
Buffalo wings and beer, however, was just perfect.
The bar wasn’t anything fancy - simple wood bar along one side, with barstools and a jukebox. There was a small area for dancing and both tables and booths lined the walls. She glanced over toward the door, wondering when Eames would arrive.
Megan walked into the bar in lower Manhattan and looked around. The place was full, but not overly crowded, typical for the end of a week. The clientele was mixed - a handful of middle-aged, working class people, some hipsters and some others who just blended in with the background. They could be secretaries or lawyers or grocery store clerks, or, in Megan’s case, cops. She liked this bar - there were no tourists, the beer was decently priced and while she occasionally saw another cop or two, it was not a cop bar. Cop bars could be fun and they had a certain usefulness, but sometimes it was just nice to be somewhere without the job.
Taking off her scarf from around her neck, Megan slid into a booth, midway back. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the menu. Buffalo wings sounded good at the moment. She’d had a brief lunch, sometime earlier in the day. She couldn’t quite remember. While Logan could easily eat several hotdogs or pizza slices or small countries in the five or ten minutes that usually ended up being their “lunch hour”, Megan usually wound up with indigestion if she ate greasy food too fast.
Buffalo wings and beer, however, was just perfect.
The bar wasn’t anything fancy - simple wood bar along one side, with barstools and a jukebox. There was a small area for dancing and both tables and booths lined the walls. She glanced over toward the door, wondering when Eames would arrive.