Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[maga]

Magia peeked into the bar, nervous. The entire time she'd been on Crete, she'd yet to see a friendly face, though admittedly, none had yet been agressive, either. There seemed to be a few people in the bar, but it looked empty, more so than it should have been. 'Screw it,' she thought to herself, and stepped in the rest of the way, pulling up a stool at the far end of the bar.

Magia motioned to the bartender, hoping to get a drink with some kick to it. She didn't look around, didn't try to recognise faces - she'd stopped doing that about a week ago when she realised there would likely never be anyone familiar again. It was strange being so far from home, but it was time to get used to it, time to start over and make things work over here.

The bartender mumbled something about making a real order. "I'll take your house special, good sir." There was only a slight tone of sarcasm in her voice, barely hidden beneath the gloom she was in.