Re: Gotham: Russ & Imogen
Her ID was good, legitimate, and no forging required. She'd her birthdate emblazoned behind her eyelids, where the image of her adoption papers was a branded thing of no validity. Her identity was built upon fake pages, but she was most certainly old enough to drink. Her mami said she had a baby face, and had promised she'd be grateful in a few decades. It didn't bother Imogen, and she thanked the bartender for the glass he poured her. The head was creamy froth, and she set the violin down between her thighs. Bow on the table, and she tucked a finger into the froth and licked it away, before tasting the beer and making a face. "The whiskey was better."
She gave him a look that was questions when he said God wasn't about relaxing. "He is for me," was the simple response she ultimately gave, after drinking down the beer for the experience, and not because she was keen on the flavor. She licked away the remains from her lips, and she looked down at the violin between her thighs. "Usually it's a guitar. Pianos, too, but they're hard to carry around." She lifted the case with her foot again, and she tucked away the strings, having paid for her drink. The bow followed, and she was a little fuzzy by the time she looked at him again.
"Next time, you come see me." It was a traveler's invitation. Doors were always open, be they tent flaps or palace gates.