Not terrible

[Oriena]

[[Continued from here]]

Gus glared across the bar when they walked in the door, earning the sweetest of smiles in return. He absorbed the split lip, of course, but didn't bother to comment; it was hardly the first time Ori had walked in here with evidence of her more violent proclivities branded on her face. Instead he grunted and unscrewed the cap from a bottle of vodka. Ice clinked in the bottom of a glass, which she swiped before he had a chance to fill it, her other hand outstretched for the bottle. "And whatever he wants."


No name swung above the door, the sign long since chipped and never replaced; colloquially it was most often referred to as the hole, when it was spoken about at all. It was a place thick with locals more than tourists, though from time to time it attracted those too; at least those brave or stupid enough to seek out an 'authentic' experience.

While Mikhail ordered, Ori turned to survey the land, her lazy gaze absorbing the group shooting pool, the couple huddled around the old fashioned duke box, and the various shadows ensconced in booths tunnelled into the walls.