Quitxi smirks back at him, standing with one foot on the rung of her stool and the other back in a half-strut that positions her bottom in a lovely fashion.  She nods to the tender and brushes aside the salt shaker and lime wedges, taking up the tequila in her slender fingers and, tipping the first double-shot sized glass back, she swallows the tequila without flinching.  She takes up the second, placing it below her full lips as she peruses the crowd, looking a couple of them over from shoulder to toe and back... she sips the tequila and demurely crosses her free arm over her breasts.<br/><br/>She draws a few looks here and there, most discouraged by the large, hard company she keeps.  But one individual pays her a particularly long stare... a large half-orc, wearing black leather, riddled with tattoos, who gives her a long up and down look.  He's with a small group of compatriots... other half-orcs, humans, and possibly others... rough-looking, their facial tatoos and piercings mark them as modern primitives... they're certianly members of a gang of some sort... or possibly a team of some other sort.<br/>