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Bar had filled up fast. Sim had tapped out quickly, nodding at her and then vanishing out of the door, but many more regulars were filling up the bar, along with people just stopping in for a drink. Glenn was up first, one of the more mopey patrons normally, but he was in a good mood. White wine was kept chilled, so she uncorked a fresh bottle and let it glug out. She was hardly a sommelier here, but she had handled alcohol for a long time. Two glass, she slid them across, recorking the bottle with a reusable stopper, and putting it back into the fridge. "Yeah, things are pretty good. Hanging on to this last bit before I go and party." She chuckled. "I'm looking forward to turntabling again. Especially in the non-culinary sense."

Then came... Huh. That was a blast from the past. Alexander, Alexander, Alexander. They had been an item when she was studying, but had lost contact after she had dropped out. Now he was back here. "If I recall Alex, we ended up splitting. You probably still have my number." Stooping down again to the fridge, she popped out one of the microbrewery stuff and cracked the top. Tipped it out, letting the head settle out, and down onto the table it went. Things were moving fast, damn. She might need a coworker if things got this busy consistently. 

Then flounced Brandon. He was decent enough, albeit about as camp as was possible to get, but he didn't care for her, and that cooled her attitude towards him in turn. His usual. Almost what Sim had had. Pepsi, the bartender tossing it behind her back, channelling through her just for a second to let her catch it on one finger, then letting it fall into her palm, where she tapped the bottlecap a few times, then opened it. 

"Glenn, stop trying to stir up bullshit. I ain't got time for it today. Brandon wants to drink a diet pepsi, he wants a diet pepsi. You put double the amount of shit into yourself anyway." She pointedly looked at him, the glass of wine, and the fact that she knew he was undercutting her on MDMA. It was almost funny that there were three different drug dealers all chatting right now, but hey, life was life. Her voice was jovial enough, but also with that tinge of seriousness which was Jennie-code for 'I'll smack you if you don't shut up.' The regulars knew it. 

Then came an unusual figure. Much older than the rest of the regular. Grits. Old school. Seemed kinda miserable nowadays, she felt for him a bit, even if he was the fittest man his age that she had ever known. "Hey Grits. Good day? Bad day?" Tap water was free, so there was that at least. Lord knows how the guy pulled in cash nowadays- maybe his old music was still selling. 

She checked the clock on the wall. Half an hour had vanished. Cmon, cmoon! After she had hit the club, she wanted to hit the streets as well. Her 'costume,' if you could call a differently-coloured motorcycle jumpsuit and modified helmet a costume, was inside a gym bag in the employee only-area.