[h2][right][color=D3D3D3]Silas’ Catharsis[/color][/right][/h2]
[right][@DaftJive][/right]

[color=808080]The woman turns her head. One eyebrow lifts. She breathes out through her nose, almost a laugh.

[i]"Cheap."[/i] Her eyes drop to her own drink. The ice has melted down to slivers. She doesn't seem bothered by it. [i]"Nothing here's cheap. You pay one way or another. Everyone does."[/i]

The door opens. A few more bodies wander in. The air gets thicker, warmer. Cigarette smoke starts to curl through the bar.

Her attention lingers on the door. Smoke gathers and the neon hazes out, goes soft at the edges, and when she looks back at him—

[i]"Bar's going to fill up. Get your order in now or you'll be waiting."[/i] Her nail, painted the color of a bruise, taps the counter once. [i]"Or don't. Plenty of distractions in here besides drinks."[/i] A tilt of her glass toward the figures through the haze.[/color]