Johnny needed a drink after this day. This had been some shit, between the hotel moving again and trying to work out this damn kink in his leg. The gym had been his friend lately, but those bags could only take so much of a beating and he could only do so much. His right hip had been acting up, probably from repeated performances of that split dick-punch move on command, without proper prep. Real fights didn't have a stunt safety coordinator, after all. So, training done and stomach empty, he headed for the bar, hoping to get a drink and a burger. Ok, maybe realistically like eight drinks and a burger.
Coming down from his room, he passed through the lobby, where the main floor connected to the upper floors, and found a vase knocked over, but somehow completely fine. "Ooookay... That definitely should have broken." He said to no one, gesturing to it with a pointed finger. Then he moved on, deciding it was someone else's problem. Fuck whatever bullshit the ghosts were on today. When he got to the bar, there was some new chick muttering to herself about ice. New chick was different and... objectively kinda hot. Maybe he could show her around.
"It's self serve, new blood, unless you want the ghosts mixing your appletinis." Johnny called out as he slipped behind the bar to start mixing himself a White Russian. A little Smirnoff, a little Kahlua, some milk, and done. He'd gotten the bottles onto the counter before he looked up and saw Domino's face.