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Lukas Brer || INARI (vulpin) wrote in paxletalelogs,

Lukas wasn't a mind reader, and when Honey buried her mouth against the poisoned apple sweetness of southern comfort, he wasn't able to determine what she'd been saying. So, screwing his jaw to one side and knocking back the murky, shallow remains of his room temperature beer, Lukas stepped forward. A dexterous weave slightly to her side let him catch a last moment glimpse of her lips from the side of that dinosaur kiddie cup. Of course, his investigation seemed almost for nothing when she suddenly perked with a dark plan.

Ladies. Booze. Colors. Music.

The brushstroked swagger of his eyebrows popped, almost concerned by her awareness. That was just the kind of place that Vince would go. Somehow, Lukas didn't imagine that many women knew the truth about their husbands. Not husbands like Vince; one could beat themselves black and blue trying to understand the motives of someone like that.

And so, while Honey's description sounded that they should hail a taxi immediately for Tijuana, Lukas was aware of the next best thing. There was a little cantina Coasta Rican disco across town; notorious for nothing skirts and bucket-sized margaritas.

Backstepping out of the kitchen, he gestured to the bottle in Honey's hand, mouthing his instructions, Bring it. That kind of self-medication was going to be required for any ride on a city bus, as Lukas didn't drive.