Darts! Come one, Come all!! :]
Rory was more or less at the end of her rope by the time O'Brien made his way over. This was just ridiculous, seriously. She understood that the world had ended and pub games were, for the most part, a thing of the past, but she was convinced these guys had completely forgotten how to properly throw darts. And that was annoying.
When she had company, she also suddenly had an excuse to stand from her seat and wave away the drunks with her hand. Confused and grumbling, it took a moment before they got the hint and relinquished the darts. Rory might've felt bad if the gentlemen didn't immediately wander towards the bar, no harm done. They probably wouldn't even remember this.
"Brooklyn, hm?" she repeated, finally looking at O'Brien. The man earned a smile, hopefully one lacking in lipstick stains on her teeth. That was the last thing Rory needed. "I like it." She chuckled and turned to face the dartboard, shifting her stance appropriately.
"And where else would I be in this dress? Blood and disease do not go with lace and red lipstick."