<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=10350.msg383499#msg383499">Quote from: Eyeomancer on 06-07-2007, 13:50:28</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Rachel, your bartender, takes another detour to the kitchen to bring out trays laden down with food. The order is perfect, prepared exactly as requested; the rare steaks are slightly cool in the middle, the panini on Allison's sandwich given a thin coating of olive oil, Roger's french fries nice and crisp.  Rolls of linin-napkin wrapped silverware were placed beside each plate before Rachel made another round of the bar.  "Last call," she said.  "I have to do inventory of the liquor before I close up."<br/><br/>Cynthia looked at Vivian, and pushed her glass forward.  "I choose not to have another one," she said, speaking very clearly, very deliberately.  "But you are right.  Let's not do this here, especially since the wandering perverts have settled down next to us.  Yeah, I'm talking about you.  Take another good look folks, it's dinner and a show.  Don't forget to tip your waitress, and be sure to visit Miner Foley's exciting. . . well. . .something while you're here."  The doctor lurched to her feet, and put a hand on Vivian's shoulder to steady herself.  <br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Taylor raises a brow as they're all called perverts.  "Trust me, they're not perverts." For the young girl in form-fitting clothing would know, right?  It's not like she ever gets groped or anything.  Of course if, when she first met them, they didn't have wandering eyes then she might assume they bat for the other team.  Vivian is kind of cute, if she were so inclined, but raging drunks were rarely her type.<br/><br/>As the two cut out she shrugs to herself and goes about wolfing down her steak and potato.  The only thing that gets save for being consumed in a slow manner is the coffee, since that'd burn her mouth.  Soon her meal is gone, it's like she learned to eat in prison, or the military.  The latter is more true than the former...since you've (when you grow up the way she has) got to constantly worry about some supernatural attack.  Not really, but it's a good habit to get into, especially when you're in a strange place.  Never know when your next meal is going to be.  Or your next nap, hence the one she got in the car.<br/><br/>Though while Edwin gets hit on, and Blake starts to feel something around the edges of his paranoia, Taylor's left out on both ends.  No one hitting on her, not that she minds all that much, with all the estrogen in the place she really would rather not be hit on....and no weird tingling sensations that would warn of a supernatural threat.  Granted that doesn't mean that there's not a normal threat, but what threat would their be from those two? Or the bartender for that matter?  For now Taylor her hot chocolate and looks up to the 'tender.  "Is that an invitation for everyone? Or just Edwin?" As much as she hates the thought of being a third wheel, she hates the thought of being couped up here all day tomorrow even more.