McCool's Tavern - Freeport 1

[Silver]

The click-clack of her heels alerted the guards to her arrival.
The bigger one recognized her face and ordered the woman to stop.

She sighed and raised her arms so she could be searched with the the handheld scanner.

Two minutes later, three small knifes, two guns and a small compact CQB shotgun were being locked away in a secure compartment. The red-head woman quickly keyed a combination and winked with a smirk at the guards as she walked into the bar.

"No manhandling. No fun."

Kalliste Silver thought as she stopped and looked at the several faces inside the bar.
Some she recognized from the files she pulled from the Reaver Database, others were complete strangers, and some others she knew already.

Noticing the rowdy corsair that was near her, shouting something about a Viera or somesuch, she dismissed it, and went to one of the farthest booths.

As she walked, several eyes were set on her.
Not just because she had a good figure or that bright red painted hair.
The shapely jeans that were basically glued to her legs and bottom did helped, though.
But no.
It due to who she is.

Silver. The face of the Reavers.
Branded as a terrorist not only by Rheinland and Bretonia, the Corsair Empire had a big score to settle with her as well.

The heels click-clacked on the hardwood floor, and she basically spun and threw her back at the booth, sitting herself comfortably in the cushy seat.

The eyes were still there, trailing her every move.

She looked back with a dead set face.

"You can look. But you can't touch."

Silver moved her lips saying that to the onlookers and grinned at the end.

If they wanted a shot at her, they would have to pay dearly.
Very dearly.

One of the robots that were currently being used as aide in the bar, came close to her.
She looked at it with a raises eyebrow and sighed.
Not that classy, the McCool's.

"Uh. A bottle of Jack Daniels, to be open by me, two glasses and call Dane Summers. Tell him Silver is waiting for him."

The robotic aide turned and went to carry out her order.
She grabbed a small silver case of cigars and pulled out an 100% pure Cretan Cigar.
Irony at it's best.

With a quick move, she lighted it up and waited for her drink to come.

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[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop