Look who finally left the temple

[celticromanstone]

Who: Heather... and YOU
Where: Market place
When: I'm open.
Warnings: Heather is a blanket warning and I'm sorry not sorry.

There is a decided lack of drink around here. So, Heather has decided to go talk to the people in the marketplaces, to see if someone has some stashed somewhere that they'd be willing to share.

She, however, is finding it very hard to communicate with the people of Vernos Bay who keep giving her shiny rocks until her pockets are overflowing. She doesn't want rocks, she wants booze. There's not even a good cuppa around here!

So, come find her, and she might not hate you.

Comments

[ichoosefight]

Whatever, Heather, coffee is Steph's life.

"Dry?" That confuses her for a minute. It's been snowing almost nonstop, and they're in a bay city. Then it clicks.

"Oh! You're looking for a bar?"

[celticromanstone]

Heather is, frankly, coming to realize that she is the only immortal here. The others are from places where people don't live forever. That's not good.

"If I must, but a place to procure alcohol is definitely needed." She's too classy for a bar.

[ichoosefight]

Steph snorts a laugh. What a snob.

"Beggars can't be choosers, isn't that what they say?" She's not even sure the liquor stores are open, with things in the state they are. Or if they are open, how good the liquor is. There's whiskey for Irish coffees, but she hasn't tried it straight.

"I think there's one just a couple of blocks down the road. They're not that uncommon."

[celticromanstone]

When 1700 you reach, a snob you will be. /Yoda

"Unfortunately, it's been a long time since I was a beggar and I've lost my taste for it." She admits.

"Is there? Thank you, I'll have to try there." Because she needs something.

[ichoosefight]

"Really? Weird." Because people usually so love being beggars. Steph should really stop making fun of Heather in her head. She should, but she won't.

"C'mon, I'll show you. You can probably even dump some of those rocks as trade." She heads off in the proper direction, assuming the siren song of alcohol with compel Heather to follow her.

[celticromanstone]

Look, drinking is how she copes, and there's no other immortal people here. So, she's alone, and now a Goddess - even if she wanted the position - and that requires at least one drunken episode to get through.

Heather follows the young girl through the crowd. She's stopped several times, once by a blacksmith, who offers her a knife. She actually stops and examines it. Because she enjoys weapons. When he insists she keep it, she puts it in a beuatifully tooled leather sheathe that he has. Then, she silently follows the girl.

[ichoosefight]

Steph doesn't mind waiting when the knife makes an appearance. It's a decent blade, and kind of makes Steph think she'd like to get some throwing practice in later. Projectiles are just fun. She doesn't question the sheath just now. Different strokes for different folks, she guesses, and honestly, she just can't be bothered. Worry about armed strangers when there's an actual problem, not before.

"Here we are," she announces as they reach the bar, which is actually a pub. It's a little classier than your usual hole-in-the-wall, but not by a whole lot. She waves the bored hostess away with a smile and heads for the bar itself. At this hour there are only two other patrons around, and they're more interested in talking to each other than the equally bored bartender. Steph slides into a seat and waits for Heather to do the same.

"Mind if I stick around for a drink? I don't have anything else going on right now."

[celticromanstone]

Heather dislikes bars. Well, bars for other people. There are certain watering holes in Paris, and New York, where she can deign to be seen.

Heather sighs and slides into a seat. No wine, it looks like, and their selection of Scotch is a bit... lacking.

Sigh. Beggars can't be choosers.

"No, of course not, darling." She says, with a shrug, after placing her order. She looks at her companion. "Ar you old enough to drink?" She asks, curious.

[ichoosefight]

The question surprises her, less because she thinks she looks old enough to drink and more because Heather looks young enough not to particularly care.

"Yeah, I'm 21. Old enough in any country." Most only want you to be 18, which she really feels should be the sticking point in this weird place.

"Hey, do you have coffee?" she asks the bartender, and on his affirmative orders an Irish coffee.

"Pretty sure that's gonna end up being my favorite drink ever." She is a proud coffee addict.

[celticromanstone]

Looks can be deceiving. She actually follows the laws for the most part. She's got an ID that places her at twenty-two, just so that when she's in New York, she can drink.

It's very nice since her French ID says she's only nineteen.

"Scotch, neat, leave the bottle." She says to the bartender. He does, and she sips the aromatic liquid in the tumbler. This is much better than she'd been expecting but not as good as Glenfiddich. But then, very little is.

[ichoosefight]

Very deceiving indeed. Steph watches, vaguely impressed as Heather drinks straight from the bottle. She's been trying more stuff since she got out from under the stupid dome cutting Gotham off from the rest of the world, but she hasn't quite gotten a taste for straight liquor.

When her coffee comes - very quickly, being instant, she glares into the cup for a moment.

"Hey, coffee. Suck less." This may seem rude, but the drink does ripple some in response to the reprimand. Her frown vanishes and she takes a sip.

"Wish I knew why that works."

[celticromanstone]

"Did you just command your coffee?" Heather asks, pouring herself another glass of Scotch. Because that's certainly impressive, though, she had told the earth to stop rumbling.

She sips the liquid, wondering if she can get something a bit better. Like Stoli Elit. That would be nice. A nice vodka to drink herself stupid with.

[ichoosefight]

“I did. I was just being grumpy the first time I did it, but it really works.” She takes another long sip of her drink and sighs happily.

“Life without coffee just isn’t worth living.”

[celticromanstone]

Heather snorts into her drink. She pours herself a second, and then a third. She needs to get drunk. "I'm more fond of tea, myself." Blasphemous, she knows.

[ichoosefight]

[ Steph snorts a laugh, though she’s a little concerned by just how much liquor Heather is downing. Should she be worried about the woman dropping dead? ]

How European of you.