Post by stabinae on Sept 19, 2010 6:03:41 GMT -5
Drinking had never been an activity the she had indulged in. In fact, despite her ancient and powerful status, alcohol had never even passed her lips. Its distinct and distasteful stench was enough to put her off; observations of its cursed after-effects merely posed as an extra explanation as to why she should never, ever get drunk.
Distorted vision, slowed reflexes, sluggish thinking, as well as the inability to properly coordinate her own body sounded more like signing her own death warrant than having a good time. Add that to the hangovers, as well as the fact that drunken teleportation was just as ill-advised as drunken everything else... Overall, 'booze' was a complete and utter waste of time. A hindrance, a nuisance, a foul-smelling liquid.
Still, a foul-smelling liquid had its uses...
Distorted vision, slowed reflexes, sluggish thinking, as well as the inability to properly coordinate her own body sounded more like signing her own death warrant than having a good time. Add that to the hangovers, as well as the fact that drunken teleportation was just as ill-advised as drunken everything else... Overall, 'booze' was a complete and utter waste of time. A hindrance, a nuisance, a foul-smelling liquid.
Still, a foul-smelling liquid had its uses...
There wasn't a decent coffee shop in the area, and she certainly wasn't going to drink any of that beverage-machine expresso crap, so she had chosen the next best place.
The overwhelming, pungent stench of the bar and its many male occupants was perfect for disguising her own faint, yet distinct sulfur-ash-and-blood scent, and it would cling long enough for her to be able to slip past any resident hunters while she did what she's come here to do.
First, though, she'd have to wait until nightfall, so just to be on the safe side, she was laying low.
After all, who would ever expect Stabinae, one the of five rogue shackinjira to roam the Earth, to be sitting in a bar with a shot glass in her hand?
A shot of vodka, to be precise.
Stabinae had been 'nursing' the pathetically small, fragile glass for over an hour, reading some boring newspaper she'd bought and resolutely ignoring the continuous leers and admiring glances she could feel being directed at her back. It was fortunate that none of the idiots had approached her small table in the corner; Stabinae was not particularly friendly, or tolerant, when it came to humans eying up her meatsuit, and by the bartender's body language she knew that she'd be thrown out of here if she broke a single scumbag's arm.
Pah.
The printed words of the Sports section were now meaningless nonsense in her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, the shackinjira saw movement from beyond the rowdy crowd. Turning her head ever so slightly to get a proper view, her sharp burgundy eyes sliced through stray strands of long, black hair, past the commotion of living bodies, like a hawk scanning through a cornfield for that one mouse.
Something was here... Something that wasn't an ignorant human here to have fun.