[AU] Milliways Bar

[fighting_mad]

The bar's kinda quiet, today.

It's a change from a certain establishment on a backwater planet, anyway; for a moment, as the door opens, there's something of a general roar. Glass shattering, shouting, wood cracking as people are thrown into tables and chairs are broken over heads -- then the door shuts.

Plourr can taste blood in her mouth and her lip is starting to swell up; she's grinning wildly, though, as she weaves through empty tables to the bar, a tall, improbably muscled woman in boots, fitted trousers, a vest, and a tunic with the sleeves rolled up, a heavy blaster strapped to her right thigh. A small bundle of ice appears before she can say a word; she takes it, with only a light kick to the bar, and takes a seat on a stool. She presses the towel full of ice to her left hand's knuckles, which are ugly and split and smeared liberally with blood.

Not all of the blood on her knuckles, and none of it on her forearms, belongs to Lieutenant Ilo. (The rest of her is blood-free; she is good enough, by now, to avoid the worst of the sprays.) This is likely the cause behind her good humor.

Comments

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

Well. That's a familiar goddamn sound.

Familiar and loud enough that Alex turns fast, boots dropping off the table, and her immediate thought is that some son of a bitch has started a ruckus in the middle of Milliways (and, hell, the mood she's in right now, she'd happily join in) -- but no, it's outside the door, and that same door cuts it off abruptly.

That woman's grin, though -- speak of familiar.

Alexandra Goncharova leans back in her chair, lets her eyebrows drift up with a wicked amusement, and drawls, "Whole room piss you off?"