Bullseye wasn’t the type of bar that would be lucky enough to count Daisy Rojas as one of its patrons. Daisy had taste. This place did not. Between the cliched sign, the distinct lack of a theme in its interior decor, and the sparse crowd, it was hardly a bar at all – just one of those sad places where sad people could drink in public and feel a little less sorry for themselves, because hey, at least they weren’t drinking alone.
So, naturally, Daisy’s pathetic brother came here with a frequency that would’ve alarmed her if she bothered at all to care.
She didn’t, of course. Daisy just liked to know where to find her traitorous twin at any given time. This knowledge had been hard won lately, probably due to whatever mundane work Camelot sent his way. (It had to be mundane, otherwise Camelot was far more stupid than Daisy could possibly hope for them to be. Nobody with a brain would ever give him anything important to do.) But his disappearances were always interspersed with reappearances here, in this trash heap disguised as a bar. As distasteful as Bullseye was, he clearly relied on this place to help numb his ever-present misery.
How funny. His little refuge was about to be yet another victim of his bad luck.
Daisy walked through the doors like she owned the place, and looked around like she was currently debating setting it on fire. Her lip curled, deciding the negative. At least for now. Such a dump was hardly worth the effort of firebending – a particularly damning judgement, considering both she and Azula could firebend effortlessly.
From her perfect makeup to her stylish crop top, high-waisted shorts, and the heels of her black boots, it was immediately apparent that Daisy didn’t belong here. Several of the less-drunk patrons turned to stare, but she ignored them. It wasn't her problem if they couldn't appreciate good fashion sense when they saw it. She was dressed to go to a club – and she would be later, once she was done here. Maybe she’d even dance tonight, if things went her way. In the end, they always did.
That was just her luck.
She spotted her brother throwing back a glass at the bar, and she smiled without showing her teeth. “Well, well,” she said over the thin, piped-in music, stopping just behind him and crossing her arms over her chest. “Fancy seeing you here, Vasco.”