Re: End of the Bar: Adam and Sasha
Sasha tsk-ed loud enough to be heard over the crooning of Johnny Cash, and she rolled her eyes without thought, a motion that had been deeply ingrained in her body language since she was a small child. "It's not a lie. It's a story, kid. There's a difference. You don't get mad at movies or books for being fiction, right?" The waitress turned towards him, one elbow resting on the bar and her other hand on her hip. "I was offering to give you something to take your mind off of whatever you're being all droopy dog about. Like playing a game."
Sasha sighed, a huff of frustration at herself. "I'm sorry I don't have the information you want. I'm still trying to learn who's who around here." Her tone softened a bit, tinged with advice as she pointed out one of the men at the pool table, "That is one of the cops in town. He's got a penchant for pinching cheeks and telling you to smile. Make sure you look more chipper if you wander past him." And then because she now felt like she had to, "And that's not a lie, or a story. That's a friendly warning based in one-hundred percent honest reality."