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<br/>​</div>The kitchen door opened and Errol arrived with as much gusto as one might expect. Her hooded gaze searched the pool of patrons as though she expected more than what was present, but it was simply a pull of information to gauge her environment. "Hi, I guess." Scratching the back of her head, the spill of her snowy locks was held in a precarious bun, loose enough to fall apart at any moment. Done when she was sorting groceries, it was a great parallel to the women herself - clinging desperately, constantly in fear of falling apart. Errol would never admit as much because realistically, this was the best place for her to be.<br/><br/>Even if she despised the bar, the patronage, and the weird hours she ended up keeping for the latter two.<br/><br/>"So, what's going on tonight?" Unlike so many of the supernatural sorts the tavern catered to, Errol didn't have the capability to hear perfectly from rooms away. All she had was basic human capabilities that one would associate with a human who appeared in their early to mid-twenties. Funny story, but Errol didn't know her real age anymore. To complicate things, whatever someone pinned her age as, she was. What did it matter? "Lots of new folks. Adon didn't show for his shift, I bet." A glare moved across her visage, brief and clearly pointed at Chance, but it only lasted as long as the thought did.<br/><br/>"He hasn't been here in like a month. Off fucking his way through adverts. Whatever."