There's a girl about Mel's age sitting at a barstool nearby. Possibly a familiar girl. She's just a bit skinnier than she should be, and she still has a black eye.
She's also still in uniform, albeit clean (Yay for the Loompas), blaster holstered at her waist but no gauntlets or visor, today. And, rather like the girl she used to be, Bound.
Molly's looking at Mel, a little covertly, and frowning. She remembers her, she does, but the name escapes her.
Molly shakes her head. "I don't think I've even been gone at all. Gert-" oh God, Gert- "said I'd just headed out with Jaq, and I didn't get locked out of the bar til months after that."
"Happened to me once," Mel says. "I came in when I was fourteen, but completely forgot about it until people here caught up, timewards. It was rutting spun."
She's also still in uniform, albeit clean (Yay for the Loompas), blaster holstered at her waist but no gauntlets or visor, today. And, rather like the girl she used to be, Bound.
Molly's looking at Mel, a little covertly, and frowning. She remembers her, she does, but the name escapes her.
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Then there's a few seconds while she figures out what's up.
"You used to be younger," she observes.
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Beat.
"Hey, Mel. It's been a while."
For her, at least.
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"Molly!"
See, she gets it eventually.
"Hey, how'sit going at home?"
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She sips milkshake thoughtfully.
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"Oh man, I remember that! I met you! It was freaking weird."
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