reno sweeney - anything goes - that one bar
Click.
Click.
The first click is the careful, clipped noise of a heel on a wood floor.
The second is the door closing.
The figure in front of the door is slim and curved, gold curls of hair framing a pale, but vivacious and sly face, dressed in a gold-coloured gown. Her make-up's done perhaps a little too brightly, but it fits her overall image. She stands with one hip thrust outward, a hand akimbo. A smile just barely curves the right corner of her lips upwards, an eyebrow cocked.
Reno Sweeney is not a woman easily phased.
It's a bar -- that means she might be able to shake up a gig.
But first off?
She's got to figure out where she is.
"Well, well, well. Can't go wrong with a bar, can ya?"
Click.
The first click is the careful, clipped noise of a heel on a wood floor.
The second is the door closing.
The figure in front of the door is slim and curved, gold curls of hair framing a pale, but vivacious and sly face, dressed in a gold-coloured gown. Her make-up's done perhaps a little too brightly, but it fits her overall image. She stands with one hip thrust outward, a hand akimbo. A smile just barely curves the right corner of her lips upwards, an eyebrow cocked.
Reno Sweeney is not a woman easily phased.
It's a bar -- that means she might be able to shake up a gig.
But first off?
She's got to figure out where she is.
"Well, well, well. Can't go wrong with a bar, can ya?"