At one end of Blue Heat's bar, Tori peered for a moment into the remnants of her fizzy, opalescent drink before draining the glass. "Whaju shay thish wash called again...?" The white-haired human bartender turned his glinting metallic eyes and beamed one of finest mirthless-yet-polite smiles Bay Taua had ever seen in her direction. "Moonroe Nebula, miss; another?" She peered at him through her tipsy haze for some moments. Not an android, was he? Ocular prosthetics, yeah, but either he was flesh and blood or the kind of synth she couldn't imagine a hole like the Blue Heat being able to afford. "Hrm, might ash well..."<br/><br/>She'd been nursing her first Nebula for the better part of half an hour, gazing into the shifting surface of the opaque liquid, chasing reminiscences of the immediate aftermath of receiving her emancipation. A completely inexperienced drinker, she'd been hit harder than a seasoned veteran would have, gradually getting herself pickled merely from taking small sips every few minutes. The young Shûn woman brushed a lock of black hair back over one of her horns, sighed and sat wide-eyed on her bar stool, captivated by the silvery flecks in her drink swimming and bobbing up through the colourful liquid.<br/><br/>"Passing through, miss?" It took the orange-skinned young woman a minute to register the question was directed at her. "Bwuh?" The bartender smiled at perhaps not the most articulate reply he'd ever received from one of the bar's patrons. "Oh, yeh... Omba." Deep in her cups, or rather single cup, as she was, neither was it her finest hour as a sparkling conversationalist. The bartender gave a low whistle, giving her a closer appraisal than the cursory once-over when she'd first stationed herself at his bar.<br/><br/>"Precursors, eh?" he ventured. "Though ya don't much look like a q'orrine to me, miss; hope yer a good swimmer... if you don't mind me sayin'." At the opening hiss of the door, the bartender reflexively turned and nodded to the low Nauelli framed in the entry. He glanced over to several of the knots of blue skinned, antennaed women occupying some of the drinking establishment's larger tables before peering back at the newly arrived black-jacketed numberslummer. Again assuming his badge of office, his mirthless-yet-polite smile, he greeted the new arrival. "Mornin', miss; what'll ya have?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>