(no subject)
Mrs. Martha Adams enters the bar for the first time in a while. She is looking, all things considered, quite good. Her hair is down to her shoulders again, her skin has the faint tan of a red-head who managed not to get burned (somehow), and she's dressed for gardening.
She heads toward the bar, head high and steps even, with the natural grace of someone who has no doubt about her position in the world or her right to be any place she desires. Her order for food is firm, but not harsh, and has equal confidence. She is, in all ways, showing the spirit that caused once caused a very spiritually little man to consider her as arrogant as the Tsarina walking through the halls of her palace.
She heads toward the bar, head high and steps even, with the natural grace of someone who has no doubt about her position in the world or her right to be any place she desires. Her order for food is firm, but not harsh, and has equal confidence. She is, in all ways, showing the spirit that caused once caused a very spiritually little man to consider her as arrogant as the Tsarina walking through the halls of her palace.