<div class="floatleft">(https://i.picasion.com/resize87/64ef1d5cfffdba6ce239ce5f087255ef.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Merida DunBroch (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=328299.msg15710901#msg15710901)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Oversized Knit Cardigan over casual street clothes (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/1f/40/ea/1f40ea114ea6f93690c703753b22cfea.jpg), sneaker flats<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> December 1<sup>st</sup> | Approximately 4AM<br/><strong>Location:</strong> The Riptide<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Open</span><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>With a sigh of relief, Merida tussled her hair in the towel freeing it of the chlorine torture it had endured for the past several hours. Atop a vanity, vibrant purple shells adorned the bra she had worn and the swimming contraption that had restricted her legs was now slung over the back of her chair like a recent catch fresh out of the sea. It had brought Merida a certain level of awe at how well the sequined-leg-sleeve mimicked the scales of actual nautical creatures though she would never voice the opinion outloud. Donning her much more comfortable street clothes of a tank top and jeans, Merida slung on a large knit sweater for added warmth before heading out of the dressing room and into the main space of<em>The Riptide</em>.<br/><br/>It was a least a few shades darker in the main room of the nightclub than the dressing room had been though, not overly so to cause any jarring sensations but, nevertheless noticeable. Sneakered feet carried Merida over to the far end of the bar where an almost too well-groomed man met her, swoonworthy smile and all.<br/><br/>"Careful now. You keep swimming around all pretty like that and Ursula will want to keep you around long term."<br/><br/><strong>"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps warning me about but, I don't think this is the life for me. No offense, of course."</strong>He held up his hands and gave his Ken-doll head a shake.<strong>"Nah, I am much better off keeping up the freelance stuff and just filling in when the wallet needs a little extra padding for rent and such.."</strong><br/><br/>One of Meridas hand flew to her stomach and if the music hadn't been as loud as it was, the rumble of hunger that resounded there might have deafened all in attendance.<strong>"Oy. Say, Eric... you wouldn't happen to have any fish and chips still around for any freelance lasses, wouldya?"</strong>Merida gave him a flash of her pearly whites to which he rolled his dazzling blue eyes.<br/><br/>"Next one I'll actually make you pay for." He paused, producing the cardboard basket dyed a navy blue filled with the fried goodness as though he already knew she would be hungry. Next to it, he placed a small cloth pouch which contained her earnings for the evening. "No more freebies, fish legs. Now, hurry up and eat. You've got that other job of yours in just a few hours."<br/><br/>Taking a seat at the corner of the bar, Merida stuffed her nights pay into the front pocket of her jeans before pulling her meal in front of her. With how she ate, one might think she had no table manners but the truth of the matter was that she lived a life where her next meal wasn't always guaranteed; a choice that her family would rip her back home if they ever caught wind of it.