Boisson de fête — ;
Her just walking in seemed like a bad idea, not to her, but to anyone who looked at her. She was short, incredibly so, 4'6 at best if she stretched out completely, but everything about her seemed dangerous. A sharp look in her slitted eyes and every glance --
@MazerutoKaeru -- bartender, chin and head in one hand, and using a golden coin as a fidget object, keeping it on its side with an index finger while spinning against the counter top with her middle.
"And what's a Bel Hortensia serving drinks for, enjoying it that much?" Oh she's definitely --
// Come on, everyone knows France isn't real.
What kind of place would name a city "Nice"
Paris is the place people tell their kids their grandparents retired to when they're really dead
-- d'avoir une cerise pour moi, aussi douce que vous l'êtes." That was... French, pretty clearly French even if what she said was lost. Her features were obvious now, bright pink hair, glaring blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark, and a charming but devious smile with --