I know what you want, but it's not gonna be what you like
7/18 Late Evening
Marisol Lalita Flores + Open
RATING | Open! | A random, blue collar bar
Lalita didn't drink much. On purpose! The column of things against it was just far more impressive than the column for. It reminded her of her dad and his vices, tolerance's were effected by different types of gravity, she didn't always have someone to have her back and for shitsake she was 31, alright?
The cheers of yam seng! after a long day's hard labour didn't have quite the same ring to 'em as they once did when she was 22. Or shit. Younger. You grow up early on the Belt. Or late. If her father was any indication. It was fun at first, but when people got louder and rowdier it reminded her while she usually stuck to a beer or a single glass of swill at home on her couch.
Maybe she would have been enjoying herself more if she was drunk, but she wasn't drunk, per se, she was buzzed though. Her coworkers had wanted to go out from the shipyard, the guys and a few older women with permanently rough hands and grease embedded deep into their bones. They called her tékimang métexeng
and ruffled her hair. It was hard to resist that when it felt like home, like being around her mother on the days when she had as much of her focus as the ships she so adored.
But now they had all tottered off, and she was left sitting outside some bar that hadn't been here last time she was planet side, surrounded by mismatched picnic tables and nursing a something wondering if this made her a hypocrite and trying to decide if she gave a damn.
OOC: Thank you to Steph for helping me with the Belter language and HTML!