[centre][h1][colour=firebrick][u]Friedrich Vogel[/u][/colour][/h1]
[img]http://pa1.narvii.com/5994/3cae57aa64bccf5df3ec4e3daa661e25033fa192_hq.gif[/img][/centre]
[hr]

[colour=firebrick]"I'll have another whiskey, buddy. No screw that. Bourbon, top shelf. I'm in the mood something more fancy."[/colour]

The bartender grunted softly. Just looking a him, Fritz could tell what he was thinking. Something along the lines of [i]"Oh look, another fancy fella from uptown trying to flaunt his money."[/i] Fritz gave a knowing glare back at him, daring him to say anything. It was like a telepathic middle finger. The bartender shrugged his shoulders, a sign of nonchalance. Fritz squared off his shoulders, throwing his head back, devouring his drink. [colour=firebrick]"Another."[/colour]

He reached out his hand expectantly as another drink came sliding towards him. He noticed a sudden burning in his wrist. Ignoring his bourbon, he looked down at his wrist. At first he was confused, but suddenly, his confusion turned to glee. His soulmate was near. Cautiously sipping his drink, he stared at the bartender. He didn't look like a Phoebe Alice Stride. The he heard a voice [colour=saddlebrown]"One basket of BBQ chips and two glasses of whiskey. One for that guy over there."[/colour] So this must be her.

As the burning in his wrist increased he silently sipped his drink. She wasn't what he was expecting. Maybe it was the gas mask. She seemed cool, though. Like 'badass-cool' not 'rock'n'roll-cool'. He was just a little bit intimidated. Deciding to try and make conversation, he turned to her and said [colour=firebrick]"I take that scuffle wasn't your first rodeo, huh. Good show, indeed. I take it that you're Fräulein Stride?"[/colour] He held out his hand, appearing to be more of a buinessman than a lover. 

[colour=firebrick]"I'm Freidrich Vogel. I take it I'm the man on your wrist."[/colour]

[@EchoicChamber]