Pick your poison. {Closed - Rhi-Rhi}

[Catarina Venersson]

The Serpent’s Alehouse was one of the more notorious hangouts in Cancer for the lowlifes who travelled through and resided there. Most commonly famous for its brawls and blackmarket trades. Here there were pirates and theives, bounty hunters and dirty cops, prostitutes and even a few aliens. It stank of cheap liquer, fuel and body odour. The Alehouse was loud. The various crime bosses liked a little atmposphere, so there was always a band playing. Broken glass decorated the place like glitter. The walls boasted evidence of years of gunfights. It wasn’t that unusual for somebody to die while over a beer or whiskey.

And it was exactly where Catarina Venersson preferred to spend her spare time.

The Essyrni woman had both her legs kicked up on the table beside her. She lounged casually in her chair, a scotch older than her in her left hand, her favourite gun in her right. A recent haircut meant she was once more sporting a silky black bob. Luscious black lashes framed her dark eyes. A cigarette was stuck between her full lips, and when she sucked on it, her high cheekbones cast shadows in the hollows of her cheeks. Her features were elegant and defined. Pity she was a pirate.

She was dressed casually enough. Skintight pants, laced up boots that reached her knees, a  black singlet to flaunt her best assests and a green leather balero jacket that buckled under her bust. Around her hips was a utility belt of sorts and a pouch clipped to her thigh. Catarina was a strong believer in carrying whatever possessions you required with you at all times. Maybe not the more valuable things though. She wouldn’t deny she had pickpocted plenty of people in her time.

Taking a sip of the golden liquid in her glass, she smiled with simple satisfaction. Now this was the life.

Who knew what excitement tonight would bring? She hadn’t been in a good fight for months now, and was itching to shoot someone. Her gaze flashed around the establishment as she searched for someone she might be able to start a digareement with. There were a few candidates already. She might need another drink first.

“Vemersom?”

“It’s Venersson.” She rolled her eyes at the gap toothed man who had just approached her. “No wonder nobody was interested in the bounty you put on my head. You’re too much of an imbecile for people to even bother with you.”
“You broke my ship!”
Catarina looked up at him, a frown crossing her features. “If I recall correctly, you broke your ship. It’s hardly my fault you can’t navigate in a meteor field. And I did warn you not to try to catch me.”
Bryant’s face was starting to turn purple. He lashed out and smashed the glass from her hand.

She sighed, as if dealing with a small child and running out of patience. In a swift movement, she had pressed her gun against his throat. “That drink cost more than the hunk of metal you call a ship.” Her tone was light and conversational but her finger twitched against the trigger.
 “Now you buy me another drink, or you piss off. Either way, get out of my face before I blow yours off.”

[Rhi-Rhi]

It wasn't his usual haunt. Soli wasn't into the drinking scene, and while he drank socially, he preferred places with a bit more class. If he was going to throw down money on some booze, he wanted the good stuff, not moonshine brewed in a back alley somewhere that was equal parts alcohol and some bum's sweat.

An exaggeration, perhaps, but he already ran with some rugged sorts as per his job, so when it was leisure time, he wanted something different.

But he was here on a job, so oh well. Not like he'd be drinking the stuff here. He didn't really want to risk a roofie-colada.

Sitting at a table near the front of the bar, Soli tapped his fingers on the wood as he waited for his contact to arrive. The man was delivering a part to him, a hot item on the black market but difficult to obtain--and unsurprisingly pricy, but well worth it if it did what it was supposed to do. Soli had the money with him, and here's hoping it went smoothly. At first he had wondered why the guy would want to meet him here, but now that he was sitting there, it made a bit of sense. It was noisy, there were a lot of distractions...ther e was no real risk of being listened in on.

And Soli wasn't worried about a bunch of drunkards even understanding mechanic-speak.

A commotion off to the side caught his attention, and he looked over to see a pretty woman with a gun to some bloke's throat. Lovely. Soli sighed and propped his chin up on his palm.

"If you're going to kill the man, would you mind doing it elsewhere?" he said. "This place stinks bad enough as it is and I'm sort of in the splash zone here."

And he'd worn beige and white. Why had he thought wearing beige and white was a good idea? Because he looked darned fine in a white button up shirt, beige vest, and fitted jeans, that was why. What a bad decision that had been, coming to a trashy bar like that.

[Catarina Venersson]

"If you're going to kill the man, would you mind doing it elsewhere? This place stinks bad enough as it is and I'm sort of in the splash zone here."

Catarina glanced at the man who was addressing her. He didn't appear to be of particular tall stature. He was fair skinned with almost white hair and two different coloured. She’d heard of genetics that caused such things, but never actually met anybody with heterochromia iridium. Whilst he was almost impeccably dressed in beige and white, he looked like an idiot against the rest of the bar’s customers. Her gaze flicked over him and she chuckled.

“You look a little out of place, sweetheart. Maybe you should try Firefly on Central Rd. I can guarantee the alcohol and company will be more to your… tastes.” Her gun was still lodged against Bryant’s throat. Catarina turned her attention back to him.

“Go annoy someone else.”

Bryant didn't have to be told twice. He sneered at her, but hurried out the door.

“Seriously though. You’re asking for someone to beat on your ass coming here looking like that. This ain’t no picnic.” She’d never seen this newcomer before. Clearly he hadn't spent any time here. It was dirty and rough, and this guy looked like he preferred the finer things in life. Him holding his own in a fight with one of these scumbags seemed very unlikely.
 
 A sigh heaving her shoulders, she spied the broken glass. “And I’m still without a drink.”  This was getting boring fast. All she desired was a few drinks in this lousy bar and maybe to bump into a couple of acquaintances. Then it was back to her ship and back to stealing some poor sod’s fortune. Dumping herself back into the seat, Catarina contemplated whether or not to spend the remaining of her evening at the tavern. She drummed the fingers of her left hand against the arm of her chair. The mechanics were feeling stiff. She would have to get it serviced in the coming days. It was such a hassle sometimes but better than having half an arm, she supposed.

[Rhi-Rhi]

Sweetheart. Sweetheart. She had the gall to talk down to him, with a pet name, even! Soli twitched and pressed his lips together so he didn't say all the rude things he was thinking. She had a gun, and it looked like she had a twitchy trigger finger as well, and it would really spoil the deal if he got distracted and all caught up in some petty fight over nothing. Would spoil his clothes, too.

With a roll of his eyes, he turned away from her, pulled out his phone, and started to dick around with that instead. She had her hands full with that bloke she was pestering, anyway.

At least, she did.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw said bloke scrambling out the door, and seconds later she was digging at him again. With a long sigh, he put his phone away and glowered at her. "Oh, stuff it, you hag. You're just jealous you don't look half as fine as me."

[Catarina Venersson]

"Oh, stuff it, you hag. You're just jealous you don't look half as fine as me."

Hag? Well that was a new one. She stared at him a moment, before chuckling softly. “Oh, darling. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m simply glad I don’t look as stupid as you do.”

And with that, she stood up and strode over the bar, hips swinging.

What an arrogant little prick. Hag? It made her blood boil. She was better looking than just about everybody combined in this bar. She was proud of her Essyrnian blood. Whilst she didn’t possess any magical abilities like many of the freakshows around her with things like green hair and purple eyes,  Catarina liked to think she was pretty damn attractive, and even  better at her job.

A pout formed on her lips as she sulked over being insulted by the stranger. To make herself feel better, she returned to the bar.

“Miguel.” She whined to the bartender. “I’m bored of this. Tonight blows.”
The barman shook his dark, shaggy hair, a smile forming on his lips. “Sick of terrorising the patrons already?”
She tilted her head to one side and considered it for a moment. “It’s not that. There’s nobody fun here. The douchebag in the white just called me a hag.” Her nose screwed up as she recalled the moment again. “Jerk.”

Miguel chuckled softly. He was quite fond of the dark skinned woman. They had shared a bed too many times to count, and he somewhat enjoyed the childlike behaviour that overcame her when she was unhappy. He removed the cork from her favourite scotch and poured a double shot.
”I’ll suggest he doesn’t return here later. I can’t have him upsetting my favourite customer.”

Her eyes lit up as he doted on her and pushed the drink in her direction.

“Come now, Caty. Don’t be miserable.”

“You know, you’re the only person who gets away with calling me that. I kill men over less.” A seductive note crept into her voice and she trailed her fingertips across his hand. “When does your shift finish?”
Miguel smirked at her. “In about an hour. Think you can hang around that long?”
Catarina sighed dramatically. “Fine.”