2019-05-17 - Here's to Regrets

Summary:

Scandal has a run-in with one Grace Choi at the end of her shift at Sister Margaret's.

Log Info:

Storyteller: N/A
Date: 5/17/2019
Location: Sister Margaret's

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Theme Song

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grace-choiscandal

It's not Scandal's first time in Sister Margaret's, but it's quite a few years since she last set foot through the door and she was never a regular. Now, she approaches the door with well-concealed diffidence, wondering quite how bad an idea it might be for her to visit the place. Still, it's surely well-known to the authorities, and if she's just here for a drink….? In any case, she's clad almost entirely in black: leather jacket, tight leggings, snugly-fitted top, flexible-yet-stompy jungle boots… and a bold blue bandana around her throat.


You'd think bouncer work at a place like Sister Margaret's would be a bit more lively, and certainly its explosive moments are a lot more explosive - sometimes literally - but for the most part? For the most part, it's the same old, same old: mild degrees of shooting the shit followed by mild degrees of chucking people out windows for getting slightly too fresh followed by capping the day off with a few (dozen) beers that have been only slightly watered down — the perks of employee benefits.

And this is exactly what one Grace Choi is leading into today as she closes out her work night with the sound of two protesting mercenaries flying out the door just as Scandal approaches. Dressed in her typical tight, red halter top, cargo pants and combat books, the ink-covered Amazon is busy wiping her hands clean of their freshly-dispatched occupants. The sound of the mercenaries' meaty thuds preface Grace turning her gaze briefly on Scandal; her head cocks, and she offers the other woman a lopsided smile and a flippant, "Hey there. Welcome to Sister Margaret's," casting a wink her way before turning and wading into the bar proper once more. "Weasel! You better have those beers ready, or I swear to god!"


Scandal skips to one side, just to be sure that she doesn't get hit by any flying bodies (or parts thereof). Then she cracks a grin and tilts her head back a little to gaze up at the huge Amazon. Her eyes widen a little, she laughs softly, then steps forward. "Thanks. Is it safe to come inside?", she enquires cheerfully.


Pausing in her trek, Grace casts a glance over her shoulder as Scandal asks that question. "About as safe as it ever is," is her first answer, throaty voice tinged with amusement and one dark brow lifting just so. "But you look badass enough to handle it. Maybe." She takes a step further in, and though she looks away, the giant Amazon of a woman is lifting a hand, crooking a finger in an inviting beckon. "Don't worry though, I'll be sure to look out for you. My treat."


Scandal laughs softly, moving closer with a slight spring in her step. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle the *patrons*," she says with a grin. "I just don't want to get hit *with* any of them as you do your work. Settling into place beside Grace, she allows herself to be ushered inside - should that be the Amazon's plan.


And she does, indeed, help to usher Scandal in, one strong hand pressing between the other woman's shoulder blades to guide her into the bar proper as she offers a short, amused laugh. "Well," she begins, voice tinged with a sardonic edge, "lucky for you, my shift just ended and I've officially hit my 'throw goons like rockets' quota for the evening." A sliver of pearly white teeth is exposed with Grace's grin as her hand drops and she turns to face Scandal, walking backwards towards the bar. "That said, I'm officially at my 'get drunk off my ass' portion of my evening…" She jerks her thumb behind her towards the bar, brows lifting in suggestion. "… if you'd care to join me for that. No goon tossing. Promise."


Normally, Scandal has a rather good poker face - to be honest, she generally doesn't even need it, given how detached from normal concerns she tends to be. But there's a rather goofy tinge to the smile with which she favours Grace, and she seems to have no objection to being guided by the giant redhead. "I think that I can accept on those terms. Though I fear I might not manage to keep pace with you."


A goofy smile is met with a lopsidedly laid-back one as Grace reaches the bar. Her head cants for a moment at Scandal's words; for a moment, there's silence from the Amazon. And then, conspiratorially, she leans forward, just close enough to whisper, "It's okay. I'll go easy on you," before leaning back once more with a most innocent of looks. "C'mon." And with the cant of her head, she walks the rest of the way to the bar, leaning her side against it and hailing down the bartender as those dark eyes consider her newfound companion. "Guess I should make introductions before I get generously fucked up, huh?" She extends her right hand, eyes bright with amusement. "Grace. Grace Choi."


By most standards, Grace's newfound companion is at least moderately tall - standing above the average height of the menfolk of many parts of the world. Right now, she's having to gaze up over a gap of fifteen inches or so, but doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. "Scandal. Scandal Savage. My father has a sense of humour, and it was quite some time before I learned English and found out that I hadn't just got an 'exotic' name, but a rather odd one." She shrugs amiably, leather creaking in gentle accompaniment. Her accent is educated, and rather internationally non-descript.


Equally hard to place, Grace's voice is a bit of a rougher counterpart to Scandal's, coming with a husky, easy-going quality as her brows heft upward for Scandal's introduction. She listens, waits exactly the appropriate amount of time, and then summarizes with a simple, deadpan, "Scandalous." The laugh that follows is an easy one as Grace shakes her head, one tattooed arm lifting to rummage her hand through her short mop of red hair. "I like it. Seriously. Makes you sound dangerous in all the right ways." She cocks her head to the right as the bartender arrives, dark eyes focusing a curious stare on the shorter woman. "So, what does a woman named Scandal Savage like to drink? Anything you like out of this fine shithole of an establishment. My treat."


"Uh-huh," Scandal says in response to the pun. "Never heard that before," she deadpans, before cracking a swift grin. "And… oh. Is there *anything* you'd recommend here? If not, I'll take whatever you think's least bad. I'm willing to trust your judgement, and see if I live to regret it later." She winks cheerfully.


A playfully helpless shrug following in the wake of Scandal's deadpanned words, Grace settles her back against the bartop, elbows resting on its surface and fingers lacing together in front of her bare midsection. She lets out a low whistle for Scandal's winking words, lips pursed and expression turning so very grave. "Wow. Risk-taker," she observes, the dance of mischief in her gaze otherwise ruining her perfect poker face. "I like that. Alright then. Let's go all in." And here, she orders a pair of boilermakers, blowing a kiss to Scandal after. "Here's to having plrnty of things to regret in the morning."


Scandal laughs, then raises her glass - first in toast, then a little higher to eye the contents. To plenty of regrets in the morning," she says warmly, before making a show of sniffing it, as if savouring the aroma.

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