09-03-2020, 12:37 AM
Continued from: Beggars (Market district)
They both had errands and agreed to meet up for their respective needs. Grym wasn’t the kind of girl that went shopping with another girl, for car parts or shoes. She procured the necessary piece that she found online, and negotiating a good percentage off the top price too. Which meant she had enough cash to front a night out.
The place she recommended was a basement bar off Pushkin Square, Pod Mukhoi, which was Russian slang for tipsy. Off a back alley there was a set of concrete, narrow stairs leading to a rackety door. The neon sign above was broken, such that the P was dark, leading the name to look more like Od Mukhoi.
On Thursday nights the place was busier, mostly with locals, but a tourist or two wasn’t unheard of. Grym pushed the door open, but the sun was still up and the bar was mostly empty.
An older woman well past her prime was leaning against a wall, broom crooked in her elbow while she tapped away at a Wallet in her hand. She wore a leopard print top with a bulge of fat squished out the sides where it had ridden up above her hips. Her hair was pulled back, a mix of old black dye and unfinished roots. Her legs were bare below a mini skirt, and she wore black knee-boots.
She glanced up when the door opened, looking annoyed by the early customers.
They both had errands and agreed to meet up for their respective needs. Grym wasn’t the kind of girl that went shopping with another girl, for car parts or shoes. She procured the necessary piece that she found online, and negotiating a good percentage off the top price too. Which meant she had enough cash to front a night out.
The place she recommended was a basement bar off Pushkin Square, Pod Mukhoi, which was Russian slang for tipsy. Off a back alley there was a set of concrete, narrow stairs leading to a rackety door. The neon sign above was broken, such that the P was dark, leading the name to look more like Od Mukhoi.
On Thursday nights the place was busier, mostly with locals, but a tourist or two wasn’t unheard of. Grym pushed the door open, but the sun was still up and the bar was mostly empty.
An older woman well past her prime was leaning against a wall, broom crooked in her elbow while she tapped away at a Wallet in her hand. She wore a leopard print top with a bulge of fat squished out the sides where it had ridden up above her hips. Her hair was pulled back, a mix of old black dye and unfinished roots. Her legs were bare below a mini skirt, and she wore black knee-boots.
She glanced up when the door opened, looking annoyed by the early customers.
‡‡ GRYM ‡‡