Post by luigi on Jun 27, 2011 12:59:46 GMT -5
Witchblade
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"Why is it all Irish pubs have the same name? I mean... you've got Lucky's, O'Neil's, McFadden's..."
And that was another fifteen minutes of her life that she would never get back. The redhead sitting at the bar attempted once more to appear as though she weren't paying any sort of attention to the man ranting and raving next to her with a giant beer glass in one hand, and the other moving this way and that as he spoke. If it weren't for their thick accents, you could always tell an Italian by the way they spoke with their hands... and currently, with the way they spilled their drink while doing so. The man was from out of town, currently visiting his family. Of course, most of his visit had been spent within the tavern walls, complaining about his family. The detective had come in two nights prior this week and still the man always seemed to find something new to complain about. At least he wasn't repeating himself... to an extent.
"And another thing-"
"Lucky," Sara called out to the tall brunette behind the bar who held her back to the patrons, mostly due to also not wanting to get stuck in another three-hour conversation with the Italian. Lucky just so happened to be the owner of the bar, and actually her birth name. The redhead could only imagine what kind of parents would name their kid something like that; Irish ones, apparently. Her hand reached for the side of her head as her annoyance expressed fully upon her features. "Can I get another round?"
"Sure thing," the woman turned her head briefly, her thick New York accent easily distinguished with her R's replaced by some sort of 'wah' or 'yah' sound. While Sara thought the accent was cute, at times, she really had no idea what the heck the girl was saying, especially when she too went on a tangent. Just what was it with bars and people suddenly needing to fire off some sort of unimportant rant? Luckily for the young detective, the man left after finishing his drink; not before flirting one last time with the bartender. After a failed attempt of getting her number, the brunette turned back to Sara, leaning against the bar and topping off her drink once more.
"How's the hunt going?" Lucky asked, as she did every night the detective showed up at the bar. And, like every time, the redhead shook her head and let out a sigh.
"We've narrowed it down to three," Sara replied, though there was a lack of hope in her voice. "But we don't have any reliable evidence thus far."
"Well, I'm sure you'll find the bastard'n put'em away; you always do, right?" Lucky replied. To that, the redhead couldn't help but smile. The girl did her job well and always seemed to lift her spirits, which was one of the main reasons why she came to this very bar. That, and the half-off whiskey specials they ran during happy hour. Her eyes shifted to one of the many television screens set up throughout the bar, her peripherals catching a familiar crime scene on the 10'clock news. It seemed like always, the media had nothing better to do but question the Gotham Police Department and the reasons why the case hadn't been solved yet. For one day, she wondered what it would be like if things had been reversed; the media dealing with various crimes while the police hounded THEM to get their act together. Sara pinched the bridge of her nose as another 'cheap shot' was delivered on air.
"Want me to make the next one a double?"
"You're a great mind reader, Lucky," Sara replied without looking up.