(Untitled)

[no_justice]

Death sits at the end of the bar, nursing a long drink and surveying the room.

He is, as always, watching the mortals with an intent to learn.

Comments

[highheelterror]

Gail is approaching the Bar, intending to get some dinner and maybe a movie for the night.

In her time in Sin City, she's seen a lot of weird stuff. But nothing prepares her for seeing Death at the Bar.

[no_justice]

Death gives her a grin. It's his friendliest grin.

Of course, Death doesn't have that many expressions to choose from, not having a face to speak of.

Good evening

[highheelterror]

Gail makes a small noise, equivalent to a squeak.

"Hi."

[no_justice]

Apparently ignorant of her discomfort, he raises his glass in a greeting.

Nice day for it.

[highheelterror]

She clears her throat. She'd figuratively faced Death a couple times, after all. "Yeah. Bar, something strong, please."

[no_justice]

Death sits in silence for a few seconds.

I believe it is expected that we discuss trivial affairs that matter little to either of us now, correct?

[highheelterror]

"Uh, yeah. I guess."

Gail doesn't usually do small talk, really.

[no_justice]

Beat.

So, do you visit this place of business with any significant frequency?

[highheelterror]

"I. . .guess. I'm kind of stuck here. Do you?"

Her drink is not nearly strong enough for this. Really, nothing could be.

[no_justice]

When I can, Death says. I like the curry.