- Joined
- Feb 15, 2014
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Instead of joining in on Zaylos's terrible no good very bad thread :p I figured I'd start my own which is way more awesome and has glitter and ponies and is just BETTER because Zaylos didn't start it and get his stupid Zaylos-cooties all over it. :bitchez Also I wanted to use that because I don't feel like I get enough opportunities to use the LSD "bitchez" parrot. So feel free to get freaking wasted, flirt with each other, get drinks thrown in your face, start a bar fight, and cry in a corner over how your girl/boyfriend just dumped you. Oh, and Russian roulette and that knife-between-the-fingers-game are both totally acceptable.
~Latte
~Latte
Antoine sighed and trudged through the doorway into the saloon. Hopefully, his almost nonexistent luck would hold out and he'd get to stick around in this one, rather than be chased out and get in a rumble with arsonist psychopaths. Hauling himself up on a stool at the bar, he perched his feet on the run and leaned his elbows on the counter. "Whiskey. Or some of that illegally strong stuff. Just don't spike my drink," he muttered tiredly, letting his head fall into his hand while the other hand reached up to tug the goggles down to rest around his neck. Blinking blearily at the drink set near him, Antoine slid it forward and grasped it with his hand for a moment. He wasn't old enough to drink in most systems. He could hear his sister's voice in his head, harping on him to follow at least that law, if he followed any. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swiftly downed the shot, shaking his head and making a face as the alcohol burned his throat and nose.
Few more of those, and his sister's voice would be nothing more than a faint ghost in the back of his memory. Just like the rest of his clan.
Sasha didn't belong here. Not in this filthy, pathetic, hole in the wall. He suspiciously eyed the corners of the saloon as he walked in for any unmentionable holes, inwardly shuddering at the thought. This bar would be perpetually covered in all sorts of grime, most of which he didn't desire to ponder. Ugh. Disgusting. As was this entire planet. Why, oh, why, had he listened to Nathan and come here? He hated Zonju V. This place was evil, filled with the most repulsive beings who called themselves people and the most self-righteous peons who called themselves "Waste Rangers." Waste, indeed. Waste of space.
There was already alcohol swimming in his system. He'd drunk it so he could stand to drink the hooker spit that passed for alcohol at this trash heap. Which certainly explained his exceptionally poor state of mind. Zonju V could go burn in the fires of Corellian Hell, far as Sasha was concerned at the moment.