As Avé-Maria watched her bitch down that sucker, she waved the bartender over again. "Another?" He asked. "Only if you super size them." Avé tapped her hand impatiently on the bar. "Heavyweights. You should have said something in the beginning." The bartender winked. Avé gave a placid response and watched that he didn't try to sneak some GHB in their glasses. His hands were busy doing one thing, while his eyes did precisely another. "You two here alone?" he prodded. "No." She quirked a brow at him. Delivering a 'pfft' noise. "We're here with each<em>other</em>. She my ho."<br/><br/>The plastered grin he manifested made Avé feel cheap, and his lingering presence was bugging the hell out of her. She just wanted a motherfucking drink! "I'm here to see your<em>boss</em>. My company is seeking to invest in the club...and I may very well be<em>your</em>boss one day." It was kind of a lie, but she was very convincing. It seemed, too convincing. The bartender's eyes went shifty as he set down the girls' new Jack and coke-in-a-mug. "That's cool...I guess." Was all he could say thereafter.<br/><br/>"Here, have another. You don't enjoy yourself this often." Mid sip, Avé shook her head. "I don't do clubs. They're raunchy and disgusting. A fucking meat market. "And it wouldn't look good if what's-his-face came to greet us, and found us messing around instead." Avé tended to over share where Dee was concerned. Yet nothing that came out of her mouth was usually things that could have been classified as 'secret.'<br/><br/><br/><div align="center">(http://i232.photobucket.com/albums/ee80/One_Way/Pimp.png)</div>