This? This was nothing like what she was used to. Like New York or even freakin' L.A., which was always a bit of a shit-show full of hippy-dippy stuff, as far as she was concerned. Any city that had coffee colonics and places that would cleanse your lady bits with crystals was a fucked-up place, as far as Jessica was concerned. But then, Jessica thought a lot of shit was too touchy-feely, and a bar with booze and a quiet corner to hide herself in was the kind of speed she could be happy with.
That being said, she couldn't help but notice the steady fluttering of the female parties around the men that sat here and there. Over there was a bear of a man, who looked like he might be part actual bear, beard included. He had two women on his lap and was having a good time. Another corner had some rock'n'roller type; blonde hair and a smile and weird velveteen duds that the one on his lap couldn't stop petting. The other corner had some older guy, long greyish-white hair and a surly look on his face. But he looked solid. Sturdy. not quite as old as that hair would imply. And she watched women flit over, then flit off. Then flit over. Then flit off. Curious, because it seemed like this whole thing was just a rude escape from reality for her, she got up with a pitcher of something that was harder than beer or 'ale', and a mug she was sipping from. Then she went over and sat across from him, setting both objects down, pouring herself a glass, then sipping from it as she watched him over it. A quick glance over what she could see of him, then she met eyes that were like someone had taken them out of a tiger and popped them in a human face. Gold. And he looked younger up close than he had from further away. "So, you seem happy to be here. Even happier than me, if that's possible." That? That was sarcasm, Geralt.
5
That being said, she couldn't help but notice the steady fluttering of the female parties around the men that sat here and there. Over there was a bear of a man, who looked like he might be part actual bear, beard included. He had two women on his lap and was having a good time. Another corner had some rock'n'roller type; blonde hair and a smile and weird velveteen duds that the one on his lap couldn't stop petting. The other corner had some older guy, long greyish-white hair and a surly look on his face. But he looked solid. Sturdy. not quite as old as that hair would imply. And she watched women flit over, then flit off. Then flit over. Then flit off. Curious, because it seemed like this whole thing was just a rude escape from reality for her, she got up with a pitcher of something that was harder than beer or 'ale', and a mug she was sipping from. Then she went over and sat across from him, setting both objects down, pouring herself a glass, then sipping from it as she watched him over it. A quick glance over what she could see of him, then she met eyes that were like someone had taken them out of a tiger and popped them in a human face. Gold. And he looked younger up close than he had from further away. "So, you seem happy to be here. Even happier than me, if that's possible." That? That was sarcasm, Geralt.