The market has a fair few watering holes, too. And at least one of them is about to gain two people.
"Wonder what Simon and Sam're up to?" Kaylee looks over her shoulder at Dean as she passes through the beaded curtain, and holds part of it back for him to pass through.
The speakeasy in front of them is, of course, poorly lit. There's something with a slow, hollow backbeat playing over a speaker system that isn't immediately visible. Over that is the hum of a dusty, smoky bar -- and not everything that's being smoked is tobacco, from the smell of it.
The bartender hooks them up with something that won't peel paint; Kaylee manages to finish off half her pint before making a face and pushing her glass towards Dean. "You want the rest of this?"
"...you saw how good I am at lookin' innocent yet seductive." Kaylee puts a dent in her whiskey. "Come on, let's do somethin' with pointy objects what won't get us stabbed."
"No, I'm accusin' me of bein' bad when I'm sober." Said cheerfully enough. "All right, works for me, not like I'm gonna complain when somebody wants to do work of mine and wants to follow it up with somethin' like that. And if I win..."
She reaches behind her, on the bar, and picks up a wayward paper umbrella out of an empty glass.
"Wonder what Simon and Sam're up to?" Kaylee looks over her shoulder at Dean as she passes through the beaded curtain, and holds part of it back for him to pass through.
The speakeasy in front of them is, of course, poorly lit. There's something with a slow, hollow backbeat playing over a speaker system that isn't immediately visible. Over that is the hum of a dusty, smoky bar -- and not everything that's being smoked is tobacco, from the smell of it.
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He gives it a second, just because he can.
"Sure."
At least it doesn't taste like horse piss.
Or some of the really really shitty beer Dean's had in his life.
Who knew?
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"You want to do somethin' with weapons before we're too drunk to stand up straight?"
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"Sure. I mean, if you're gonna be a wimp about it."
He's kidding. It's kinda obvious.
"You thinkin' knife-fights, or something more like darts?"
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(It's a little bit of a delayed reaction.)
"I look like I'm good with a knife?"
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Like Dean and pool.
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He smirks.
What? She said it herself.
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"Was that supposed to be about sex?"
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Unless she really wanted it to be?
"More like I dunno how bad your aim is when you're buzzed?"
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Dean gets a hopeful grin.
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His grin broadens.
"You wanna name stakes?"
No sense playing a game if nothing's riding on it.
A man's got to have principles. Or . . . something.
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Kaylee's no fool.
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He is, however, a cocky sonofabitch.
"You accusin' me of being unfair?"
Already? But he's grinning.
"I win, and you owe me another go at some spaceship engineering shit. And another night of drinking."
The exact length of each part of this is totally negotiable.
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She reaches behind her, on the bar, and picks up a wayward paper umbrella out of an empty glass.
"This. Behind your ear. Rest of the night."
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