[Sharon and Cat having a drink or ten] Who: Sharon and Cat Where: The Mean-Eyed Cat What: A drink among gal pals When: Closing Time (you sang it didn't you?) Warnings: Nah
Under normal circumstances if Sharon was showing up at a bar after closing time there was some kind of wet work involved and she was damn glad that wasn't the case as she approached The Mean-Eyed Cat. As much as she needed a stiff drink, she didn't think a second pair of ears on her situation would hurt either. Whether or not Cat knew anything she had no idea, but at the very least she had confidence that she'd think of a four hundredth avenue that Sharon hadn't traveled down just yet.
There weren't many places, or people, she could go for help. Even Cat was a toss up, but she had a pretty solid belief that if she went to her for help, and there was a good chance Cat was going to rat her out for one reason or another, she'd at least give her a head start. And tell her as much.
That was something.
And being ratted out. That was something too. A step closer than she'd been in weeks. So really it was a win-win situation no matter what. And also. Drinks.
As the last drunk of the night wobbled his way out of the bar, Sharon strode her way in. Hair pulled back in a ponytail under a Virginia Tech baseball cap and, wearing a pair of jeans, running shoes, and a plain black pullover hooded sweatshirt she made her way right over to the bar and sat down setting her phone down on the bar next to her but not too far away that she might miss something. "I don't suppose there's an Old Fashioned back there with my name on it?" Always with the old man drinks.