Despite the overall color, the bar was dominated by blondes tonight, much to Marty’s disappointment. He had traveled so far… He decides to roll with the punches and chats up a friendlier one named Lichen, who said she use to be a Moss. Then, surprising him, she moved behind the bar and asked if he wanted a drink. “Break,” she explained. “Men don’t like to pick up their bartenders usually. Want to have more freedom with their time.”
“What time do you get off?” he ventured, having nothing to do but kill the same himself. There must be *something* here. The Pointer almost always indicates, he reinforces in his mind.
—–
She tried the emerald green table again because of the eyes and all. Maybe she’d have more luck with this… Redd, *bleh*. Perhaps she could talk him into letting her dye his hair beforehand.
Sunklands 