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It was a bright, shiny day for La Misquita. Another night of all-out partying after her match and commentary duties, resulting in another emergence to some part of Spaghetti Town's outskirts.
At a retro diner, no less.
>HAY THAR HUN, Y'GONNA ORDER ANYTHANG OR Y'WANT ME TO GIVE YEW ANOTHER HOUR?
The abrasive yelling in her ear as she was asked urged Misquita to launch a foot or two towards the waitress, which she backed away to avoid. The woman's smile never faded, even if she was attacked.
>ALRIGHT, I'LL GET YEW SUM CAWFEE AND A STACK A' FLUFFY PANCAKES, ON THE HOUSE!
Groaning as she sat upright, the luchadora was still in a daze. Maybe she should stop drinking endless margaritas at her favorite taqueria, whenever she lost.
>Egh... ¿Dónde diablos estoy?
>Esto no es Lucha Mucha Taquería. Parece anticuada.
The waitress zoomed right back over, at the sound of the rambling.
>DID YEW SAY SUMTHIN, HUN?
>Eh? N-No, nothing.
>WOWEE, SO YOU DO SPEAK SOME INGUHLESH!
>OH BAH THE WAY, THE MAILMOOSE CAME BY AN' WANTED YEW TO HAVE THIS.
A letter was laid onto the table counter, leading to the Mexican diva picking it up, scratching at a corner to peel the seal away, and then opening it.
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