// I SAID THEY’RE CLICHE WANNA FIGHT ABOUT IT?

She sat down a little heavier at the bar than usual. But she was far enough from home that she didn’t care who thought what about her. Not that she usually did but it was even easier when she wasn’t going to run into neighbors. “Whatever whisky you’ve got on the bar rail... and keep ‘em coming.” She called out to the bartender standing just a little way away.

       Faith's holding up the far end of the bar. Been sitting there, eating peanuts for about an hour. Keeps herself facing the door while she scratches out the location of crime scenes on a freebie travel map with a red bible pencil she pilfered from a motel.

He felt like someone was watching him and glanced around, finding his random audience member and giving them a small apologetic smile for his mild outburst. “You ever get a vision in your head and try to replicate it but it doesn’t really pan out? Kinda what I’m dealing with right now,” he explained, regardless of whether they cared or not.

The Lady glanced up at the man approaching her, a little smile curling her lips; It was late in the evening for unexpected clients; but a job was a job; and the prospect of the contract was enough to counteract any annoyance she might have felt at the lateness of the hour.                        “ good evening;” she said getting to her feet and holding up a hand to signal the tall security at her side to let the man through. “Please; do tell me what it is I can do for you.” 

“Hey, y’do mixed drinks here? Cause I could kill for somethin’ sweet.”

Nicole had a bad childhood.

“You ever have kids, man?”