If there's one thing that's been a pleasant surprise about the damned island, it's that the drink is both available and, in the grander scheme of things, fairly acceptable
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She ignores the sarcasm in favor of taking a more detailed account of the place, impressed once again by the level of organization and resourcefulness of her fellow residents. They've managed to create something resembling civilization here, despite the circumstances. It gives her hope that she can continue to find ways to make peace with this life. That she won't eventually end up spending her days drowning herself in a bottle.
It's possible that particular fear is what's kept her from the bar until now. Avoiding temptation. It's not a particularly pleasant thought.
Deciding she's far too sober to be engaging in quite that level of depressive introspection, Juliet turns her attention back to Tessa. She can't immediately determine how long she's been at the bar or how much she's already had to drink, but that's hardly surprising. One learns to hold one's liquor if one wishes to survive in the Service. But there are a few small tells -- a slight overcompensation in the way she moves, the hint of a slur in certain words -- that make Juliet suspect she's probably been at it for some time already. "I'll take that to mean what's on offer is at least palatable. Or will be after the first one. If I ask you how you've been, will you mistakenly assume I'm doing more than making conversation?"
"I've survived worse." She turns to look at Juliet, then, one eyebrow cocked, and smiles unpleasantly. "And considering that I can answer that question in three words or fewer, I don't know how much information even you could pull out of it."
Absently, one fingertip traces a small circle in the condensation.
Juliet laughs as she nods a 'thank you' to the unfamiliar man behind the bar. Taking a sip of the drink he's placed in front of her, she's pleased to find it really is quite acceptable. Far better quality than she'd feared it would be. Actually, that could be said of quite a few things about this Island. Such a shame Tessa seems not to have figured that out yet.
"You mean to tell me in the time you've been here, all you've done is wallow in self-pity? Come now, Tessa. That doesn't seem like you at all." She lowers her voice and leans in, knowing she's pushing her luck and enjoying every second of it. "Unless this is all part of some long-game you're working. Letting everyone here underestimate you while you quietly position yourself for greatest personal advantage."
It's possible that particular fear is what's kept her from the bar until now. Avoiding temptation. It's not a particularly pleasant thought.
Deciding she's far too sober to be engaging in quite that level of depressive introspection, Juliet turns her attention back to Tessa. She can't immediately determine how long she's been at the bar or how much she's already had to drink, but that's hardly surprising. One learns to hold one's liquor if one wishes to survive in the Service. But there are a few small tells -- a slight overcompensation in the way she moves, the hint of a slur in certain words -- that make Juliet suspect she's probably been at it for some time already. "I'll take that to mean what's on offer is at least palatable. Or will be after the first one. If I ask you how you've been, will you mistakenly assume I'm doing more than making conversation?"
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Absently, one fingertip traces a small circle in the condensation.
"Bored to tears."
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"You mean to tell me in the time you've been here, all you've done is wallow in self-pity? Come now, Tessa. That doesn't seem like you at all." She lowers her voice and leans in, knowing she's pushing her luck and enjoying every second of it. "Unless this is all part of some long-game you're working. Letting everyone here underestimate you while you quietly position yourself for greatest personal advantage."
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