[ OPEN ]

[gawdamn]

who ; Zaeed and YOU
what ; After an open proposal
where ; R03, a bar
when ; After aforementioned post. Post-DS
warning(s) ; Drinking and BAWDEPRESSION

Comments

[eighttotwelve]

Quietly, Thane arrives. Through the front door.

Thane uses the front door rather than sneaking around.

This means things have. Certainly changed for him.

The drell says nothing as he takes his seat next to Zaeed. No glances of anger or bitterness is given to him. Just one nod is granted.

There's a silent consideration of what drink to have. Really, most of his organs are synthetic now.

"Ryncol," he requests, his tone still calm and even.

[gawdamn]

Zaeed has another glass of something similar close to his lips when he notices Thane- much too late for his usual comfort. He was drunker than he thought, if he didn't even notice the man until after he nodded at him.

He raised an eyebrow and noted, "never were the type for anything less than the church mouse entrance."

[eighttotwelve]

"I would have to concentrate to make noise when I walk somewhere," he remarks, tone slightly wry.

The drink appears, and the scent almost makes Thane reconsider. He prefers to have his senses sharp, but.

Amonkira, he really needs to do this.

He takes it down in one shot. It burns plenty stronger than... expected, but its effects are dull to him.

So it seems he's going to need a lot of drinks to get anywhere. Especially to avoid the clear, sharp memories hanging in the back of his mind.

[gawdamn]

"'Course you would," Zaeed grunted in between another shot, the going off into his usual, loose tongued habits.

"You know," he spoke, addressing the glass in his hands, "when Shepard brought you one bored I said- shit you not- word for word- there's an asshole I'll never see myself drinking with. Didn't even take your lot as the type. The scaly, desert type. Not the assassin type. Though, they are careful about their liquor, none the less. Have to be."

Silly hologram. Holograms can't drink.

[savesmosquitos]

Pleakley - in a blond wig - gets tired of people watching from the corner of the room and decides he would blend in more with a drink. Ambling up to the counter besides Mack, he asks the robo-barman for "One banana float please."

I'll admit, I d'awwed

[savesmosquitos]

Honestly, nothing is more harmless that Pleakley unless you're worried about getting a headache, and Mack doesn't really look like the headache kind.

The not-human-female is watching the bartend intently,when he's interrupted by what he had thought was a glitchy hologram meant to make the place seem more lively.

Oh no, is it impolite to ignore it - is that against societal standards? Would he stick out if he walked away? What if it doesn't talk back? Will people laugh?

Well, the drink wasn't done yet ... and it seemed like the barbot was having some difficulty or something, so there's no harm is answering right?

Just one quick hello.

"Oh good. I've never had one before and I didn't recognize anything on the menu. I mean, what's a Dirty Nipple anyway? I sure hope that's a metaphor.

But I want to know if the banana is going to be put into an edible flotation device of some kind, or maybe immersed in a much denser liquid? I wonder how they're going to keep it from sinking anyway."

Sometimes Pleakley forgets he likes to talk. A

[oneliners]

One hadn't responded to the request; she could have, really, but she didn't see much of a point when it was an open invitation. There were appearances to upkeep, people she didn't want to know where she was. She probably shouldn't even be worried, but paranoid habits just don't go away. God knows her superiors would shit a million bricks if they knew she'd headed off to a bar, and even though they weren't here -- technically, she refused to think of Commander Carter as her superior -- she still was cautious.

She ducks through the door, sticking out as massively as a 7 foot tall built woman could, for once out of armor again. One still opted to wear uniform -- her Navy rank insignia embrodiered on the finely tailoed sleeves -- and for going for 'discreet' she still stood out a mile away as a Spartan.

One slides into a seat near Zaeed, flagging down one of the drones to order up a scotch on the rocks. She turns her heads toward Zaeed, dipping her chin in acknowledgement.

"Welcome back to the living, Zaeed."