(no subject)
Steph staggers down the stairs early in the morning, and keeps on going right through the bar. The back door slams, there's a loud splash, a yelp - as of a young face coming into contact with cold water, for example - and then the door opens again, and Steph, dripping and wide awake, comes back in.
"Bar? Food. Uh, something greasy. ... With gravy! You know, that totally awful potatoes and gravy mash thing the fried chicken place used to make on Earth. Like, concentrated mush. That stuff." A bright smile.
It appears. So; teenager at the Bar, sporting crumpled pyjamas, dripping hair, and a hangover, tucking into a little plastic container of goop like it's the best thing since sliced bread.
"Bar? Food. Uh, something greasy. ... With gravy! You know, that totally awful potatoes and gravy mash thing the fried chicken place used to make on Earth. Like, concentrated mush. That stuff." A bright smile.
It appears. So; teenager at the Bar, sporting crumpled pyjamas, dripping hair, and a hangover, tucking into a little plastic container of goop like it's the best thing since sliced bread.