<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/YTtVcbg.png?1)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Brook Harrell<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>High-viz one-piece motorcycle suit, jeans and a white T-shirt underneath<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>1 April 2050 at Midnight.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Oriental District<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Pharon<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Watching reality TV got nothin' on this, son!<br/><hr/><br/>Pretty much everyone in the room could see Brook's second-hand embarrassment. She had a strong suspicion everyone but Pharon could. That said, she was eating and drinking for free, so she couldn't say she cared that much. Most of the cameras were focused on him anyway, she just hoped she managed to get out of most of the shots. Nevertheless, she was growing more faithful he'd lick the platter clean when she watched him pretty much halve the entire corn-cob, core and all.<br/><br/>Brook hadn't thought much of her word-choice, but realized after his explanation that it was probably a little offensive. She'd have to remember that. Just the fact that her mind had retuned from "Card-game nerd lol" to "I guess I have to treat this semi-seriously" was frankly baffling to her, but she nonetheless listened along as he talked about the difference between slayers and hunters.<br/><br/>As she thought back to her meaningless extra print at the city archives (tree murder, senseless evil) and pushed around some of the salad in the kebab to try to get to the meat (played with her food), she realized she probably had more in common with these dragons than she probably wanted Pharon to realize.<br/><br/><strong>"Uhuh... So you hun- <em>slayers</em>, sorry - You slayers are like... Knights to a king, and you eat the dragons' hearts to gain magical powers."</strong>She was mostly recapping it to herself, it was a lot to take in. She didn't want to imagine how he felt - Then again he did seem like the type who just went with the flow.<strong>"There aren't many kings left here... Well, we do have a president, I guess that's kind of like a king?"</strong>It definitely wasn't, but whatever made him happy she figured.<strong>"He's kind of like... A king decided by the people?"</strong>Or by multi-billion corporations, mostly the latter.<br/><br/>There was widespread amazement as Pharon finished the platter at roughly the same amount of time that it took Brook to finish the small kebab, to widespread cheering. Though Brook wasn't sure what she'd expected, she hadn't thought the barkeep would come up, no platter or anything. Instead, he came up to her, leaned in and told her to "get the fuck out and never come back." Some customer service. Though, he at least gave the prize money, minus the cost for her meal and drinks. Tt was enough to go out and eat one more time at least, if she could find a half-decent buffet. He did at the least take the traditional trophy picture.<br/><br/>Brook had a creeping suspicion it would end up on a bathroom wall, right above the urinals.<br/><br/>Her second beer, Brook pushed over to Pharon's side, she couldn't drink it nearly as quick as he had, she'd mostly banked on actually getting that second platter. Then, she chugged the rest of her mostly untouched beer, leaving the glass on the table.<br/><br/><strong>"Uhh, they ran out of food for the platter, sorry. Let's save the rest for another time, I need to get some sleep soon. Think you could help push the motorcycle a bit more?"</strong>