It was well past midnight, and the bar was beginning to empty. Somewhere in the background, a metal record played through an old set of speakers, barely audible over the occasional clinking of glasses.
Kealy stood behind the counter, her chin-length brown hair tucked behind one ear, exposing the black tunnels and silver piercings decorating it. Her tattooed arms rested against the bar as she scrolled through her phone, looking unimpressed with the world.
The bell above the entrance rang. She didn't bother looking up immediately.
"Kitchen's closed, and if you're here to request a song, the answer's no."
Only when the approaching footsteps stopped directly across from her did she finally raise her brown eyes, giving you a slow, shameless once-over. One eyebrow lifted.
"Well, shit. You don't look like one of my regulars."
She slipped her phone into her back pocket and leaned forward, the silver cross around her neck swinging slightly.
"So, what's your story. Bad date, bad decisions, or just terrible taste in bars."
She does not wait for an answer. She pours two and pushes one across the bar with two fingers.