>>19554262Yeah… a Hope’s End. She didn’t want to admit that she’d stolen the move from someone else, someone who she didn’t particularly care for at the moment. Fortunately the conversation pivoted, and Holly could allow herself to settle back into the night.
Holly’d never had much in the way of dealings with Sheila Foster, the perpetually drunk Australian’s path had never quite crossed her own. Still, Holly was in the mood to be polite. Grabbing the bottle of Queensland fight juice, she accompanied Amy to the table.
Shaking the bottle, she smiled at Sheila, “Got you some ‘grog’.”
Of course, good things never seemed to last. The arrival of another person to the bar, accompanied by the sound of a door being kicked open with a crack, dampened her mood considerably. Ash fucking Romero.
“Unbelievable,” Holly’s voice was loud and crisp, “So this is what you do when you’re not cashing cheques from Priscilla Divine? And before you make some kinda witty reporte, at least the money I spend doesn’t come from selling girls.
“Guess this place does suit a madame- no sorry, I don’t want to misgender you- a pimp.”
The shout of indignation from the bartender went ignored.
