[Center][color=chocolate][h2]Ophelia Cayde[/h2][/color][/center]


[@Lithfangel][@Dark Cloud]

[Color=firebrick]”Shit, is an acquired taste kid,”[/color] The old man wheezed after miraculously downing the putrid excuse of a drink. 


Ophelia scrunched her nose in response, trying to brush off the flare of indignation that flushed through her veins. The cautious mix of the strong booze and the soft wine was beginning to sink in. Her body felt flushed with a comfortable heat and chased away any memories of the cool night air she had escaped minutes prior. She braced herself against the bar, hooking one foot around the other ankle while nursing the bottle between her palms. 


[Color=firebrick]”Anyone ever told ya that your nose twitches when ya lie kid? Real cute, but you definitely would be fucked if I was a law abidin’ schmuck.”[/color]



[Color=chocolate]”What, are you telling me that you’re not a law abiding citizen now,”[/color] she gasped, one hand abandoning her bottle to press against her chest in faux shock. [Color=chocolate]”And here I was hoping that I was going to be set right by a rusty ol’ tavern drunkard.”[/color] Ophelia’s eyes narrowed into little slits of pure amusement. Should she be so openly bantering with someone who had spotted her so easily? Probably not. But when in Rome, or however the saying went. She’d never say it out loud but it felt nice to have a quick little banter with a stranger. No con. No game. Just some [i]okay[/i] booze and good humor. 


[Color=firebrick]”Ya got a name kid?”[/color]


Ophelia had opened her mouth to respond but the first syllable died quickly and was buried under the loud crashing had collided into the space beside her  [color=chocolate][i]]What the fu-[/i][/color] Her body had shifted instinctively, tense while fingers twitched towards the closest dagger snuggled into the band at her waist. Beside her loomed a man, if you could call him that. The way he held himself was almost comical. He seemed to buzz with energy much grander than his already large frame. Ophelia’s brows stayed arched as she tried to piece together the character that had so boldly interrupted them. 

[Color=darkorange]”WELL if it isn't the lord himself. Strong stuff 'en! A bottle of good whisky. A tasty brandy. Something to get me started. Top shelf. And a dessert, I'm thinking truffle cake with fresh raspberries in a diamond formation. And, and! You needn't worry about your little "break." Your secret's safe with me and you'll be tipped damned well”[/color]

Is this man for real? Ophelia had lost all control of her facial expression, feeling her head wobble in slight disbelief before casting a confused look back at the ‘bar’ man. [Color=chocolate]”Excuse me, [i]sir[/i],”[/color] she reached over to lightly tap the man. There was a moment of hesitation as his weapons came into glinting view. A soured feeling filled her limbs with lead. He was much too large for her to offend easily. But she followed through with her choice anyway and pressed her index finger into the side of his arm. [Color=chocolate]”A bit rude, don’t ya think? Coming in and intruding upon a business proposition like ya did.”[/color]

Ophelia had forgone her bottle of wine. And folded her arms across her chest, hands tucked into the sides where two more daggers laid in their sheaths. Her face had smoothened back from its shock and settled into a neutral albeit sharp appearance of subtle annoyance. Was she actually annoyed with him? No. But this felt like a good opportunity to show off her acting skills after having them slighted. [Color=chocolate]”I dare say I think you owe our dearest barkeep more than just a [i]decent[/i] tip, sir. As for me, I think I can let you off with an apology.”[/color] she could feel the corner of her mouth pull up and curl into a soft smirk. Her body felt like electricity was dancing beneath her skin. The rush of adrenaline lapping intoxicatingly at her consciousness.