Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Trixie's Bar (Everyone welcome)

"I think she likes you."

"Well, Id like to think Im likeable" he'd smile, I guess he still doesnt completely understand

"I don't blame her. You are kinda cute."

"Better to like, then to be abandoned by those you once trusted." Because the US Government is funky sometimes.

A forklift would then be driven all thr way inside the bar, hauling in 4 crates of pears. I'm surprised forklifts can haul that much. And guess what. OLIVIA IS FREAKIN DRIVING THE FORKLIFT BECAUSE SHE'S FORKLIFT CERTIFIED (somehow... )

"Heavy load of pears coming through!"

And for some apparent reason, Olivia is also wearing a construction helmet for no exact reason.

Charlie codes a star shaped badge with the words Forklift Certified on it and gives it to Oliva.

Glip shrugs "Ive never understood what humans find cute, I thing those demi-gods.. or whatever are just more confusing.. and rhe boy in the back looks like a huge energy source on my scanner, that family is a little odd-"

"She likes you"

He excitedly rushed to get Olivia's money order so he could pay her. He gave his wife a quick kiss and ran the money order back to Olivia "you are a lifesaver. I can make the roasted pear pastries now"

Claude appeared beside M1917 and spoke, "When are governments ever trustworthy?" Must she always come to the bar, bruised up? Claude's outfit of the week was a black tight-fitting tee, blue baggy military pants, brown steel toe boots that are stained not-strawberry jam, and topped off with a blue beret on her head.

The emblem of the beret was made out of silver and the shape of a rose. However, the emblem lack luster and was scratched up.

Without much hesitation, the woman found the other woman pointing a gun at her head, a pistol. "Jesus, don't do that shit to me." Just as quickly as the pistol was drawn, it was unloaded and put away. As you do.

When the pistol was pointed at her head, Claude showed no reaction. There was no sign of fear or anything signaling that she would move away. She just stared at the pistol then M1917 with emptiness.

Just as fast as the pistol was put away, Claude snapped out of it and put a grin. "My apologies. It isn't often that I forget the embedded instincts of a solider."

"Don't sneak up on me, it's a recipe for disaster, I'll tell you."

Glip shrugs "I.. uh, sure-"

He'd say monching on the pastry, "Im not exactly sure what that means, but I guess she likes me enough to have someone make me a pastry-" he'd smile "Ill thank her sooner or later-"

"If it weren't for my treasures, I wouldn't mind that recipe," Claude halfway joked. "How about I buy you a drink? They always say that you can tell what a kind of person someone is by their drink choice."

"I've stabbed people to death, bludgeoned them with a shovel—Anything you imagine from the Great War, I've probably killed a man that way." She raises a brow. She hasn't had alcohol in a long time, not since France, anyway... "If you're buying drinks, for me, then I guess French wine will do."

Claude perked up her eyebrow, intrigued, at the mention of various deaths. She snatched a wine and two wine glasses from behind the bar counter. "Let's not dim our conversation about the ways to kill a man," Claude smirked, "There is another time for that. Now, how do you feel about a bottle of 1982 Château Mouton Rothschild?"

"Anything from 1917 by chance? Or 1945?"

She laughs a bit and stretches out

"Hold these." Claude hands M1917 the wine glasses before jumping over the bar counter. A minute later, Claude jumped back over the counter with a bottle of 1917 Chateau Mouton Rothschild.

"Better?" She held the bottle towards M1917.