"Nah, sorright, Oi wouldn't drink this piss ee-vah... 'cept Oi do. Nyeh heh heh."
>[Sheila takes back her bottle and chugs the Black Velvet, chasing it with a mouthful of gin.]"Cheers, mate, but youse know a gal can't be pinned down too early in da noight."
>[With a playful wink, Sheila stands, wobbling slightly, and continues to explore the second floor.]The dance floor is larger than the ground floor, presumably for the more wild headbanging and moshpits that accompany this superior music choice. There are more booths with higher backs; safer to make out in without prying eyes, Sheila thinks. Oh gosh, those younger days when her old mate Jonno would -- ah, well, no point reminiscing now. The staircase continues upward, presumably to where Miss USA and Flamo had their karaoke night, but Sheila is looking to explore further just yet. Gotta save something for visit number three. Instead, she opts to head back down and see if that girl at the bar was still around.
>>19736365Sheila locks eyes across the bar with... uh, shit. The detective. Norris? Noise? Something like that. If they ever met, Sheila can't recall the specifics. As Sheila raises her bottle in greeting, the poor girl chucks up all over herself. Ah, to be young again. Other bar staff come to help her out, but it's unlikely security would let her remain after this.
>>19743703Nearby, another familiar face. Sheila recognises the reporter, but she can't quite place from where. For some reason her mind flashes to a beachside bar in Japan some time ago. But Sheila knows better than to give these parasites anything to go on.
Luckily, the not-Cassie girl is still at the bar, steadily putting back drinks. As Sheila gets closer, she recognises the patron as another wrestler. That's why she looked so familiar earlier, no doubt. Taking a seat next to her, Sheila sees she's not Cassie at all.
"G'day, love. Oi recognise ya from the tellie. Me name's Sheila. 'Owyagarn?"
