Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26709630-20160408221123/@comment-25686329-20160531164656

"Oh, uh, yeah, this's the place." The sign read Loraine's, old-timey and warm. He held open the door for Gracie as they entered, purely out of reflex, not thinking much of it.

Once inside, the proprieter, Loraine herself, a white-haired, plump jovial woman, spotted them and called out, British-esque accent crisp. "Oi, Neechee! Good ta see ya! 'Ow've you ben luv? I wuz finkin' you'd be due back some time soon!"

"Good to see you too, Loraine." He smiled politely as the walked forward to the counter. He lead Gracie forward gently with a hand on the small of her back. "I brought someone along this time."

Loraine's eyes widened upon seeing her and she beamed. "Blimey, it's a GIRL! What 'appened to that nervous one, the redhead?":

Nietzsche shrugged, chuckled. "Anomaly and I are friends."

"Well, this one's bloody GORGEOUS!" She laughed. She leaned in and looked Gracie right in the eyes, examining her, smile unflatering. "You're lucky to be his girl. You'll be happy, long as you treat my Neechee right."

Nietzsche paled slightly and stammered. "Well, she's n... What I mean to say is... I think that's, uh, I don't know that that's..." He looked at Gracie for a moment, where his face finally twiched at a smile after a few seconds of searching her face. "Gracie knows." He smirked.

"What'll you be 'avin' then?" Loraine asked.

"I'll take a Forest Dew, Italian Style." Nietzsche answered reflexively.

"Lemon spiked?"

"You know how I like it. What about you, Gracie?" He asked.

While he waited to respond, he evidently remembered something and pivoted towards a set of chairs near one corner where a girl, dressed in red with a blue streak in her short blonde hair, held a guitar in one hand and a drink in the other. Another guitar sat beside her.

Nietzsche took a coin from his pocket and tossed it over to her table, where it clinked. "Do Milk Bar, hey Connie?"

The girl flashed a crooked half-grin and set down the drink. Afterwards, she flared the fingers on her hand, the one that had the bright red ring, and the guitar that sat beside her floated up, readied itself, and began playing a bassy pattern of its own free will. Connie then readied her own guitar and began playing a smooth counter-melody, and before long the whole area was filled with a relaxing, enjoyable tune.

Nietzsche turned back, evidently satisfied. "Don't worry about paying, Grace, I got you."