[i]The bartender approached Varvara with her order. Doing the decent thing nad wiping the counter before putting the coaster and the glass down. "You know. I never though I'd see you in here again." The man spoke. With a voice like velvet smoke, and light brown eyes so intense they were almost smouldering ambers, there was something very wrong about him. Not fully human. "After what happened With Rune." [/i]


Vara smiled and beneath the large glasses you could see the pleased expression lighten her features. "Who is to say it is even me anymore, hmmm?" The smile remained as a brow raised up from beneath the glasses. She placed a few bills on the counter, pulled the customary straw from her drink and set it aside. "I mean, do we even know anymore?" She pressed the glass to lips and took a deep sip, before once again engaging the bartender. "How have we been?"


She really was just stalling, mostly, there was a hangover threatening somewhere in the background. She wasn't listening to it though. She took another sip before she spoke, "Who is here?"


[i]"Some ukrainan postorder bribe. Shaman type. A Irish gal, feytouched.." The bartenders smiled. "You are still you. Rune didn't fuck that up.. yet." He nodded to the backdoor. "Yet." He said again and his smile was the worst kind of shit eating grin.[/i]


She followed his glance to the backdoor and sighed. “I know. I know.” She wiggled a few of her fingers at him like she was setting some sort of curse. It wasn’t funny, but he’d teased first. Her expression was nothing but exhaustion and forced happiness as she grabbed her drink and headed towards the back door.


She didn’t knock, but she did tap on it with her drink and then push it open. She slid past Morgana, her fingers touching across the girl’s side. She didn’t try and steal anything but memories, but she was empty handed either way. The madame obviously had some sort of protection for the room’s occupants. She wasn’t surprised. No bother, She slid to the opposite side of the wall and nodded to the other occupants of the room. “Names Vara.” She raised her glass in a semblance of cheers.


She bowed her head in respect towards M. Jones. “I’d love to say it was a pleasure, Madame Jones,” she smirked and took a sip of her drink before glancing at Johnny, and then back at the Madame, “but it doesn’t take a reader to see pleasure isn’t the prominent feeling.”

((Collab with **[i]Hellis[/i]))