Who: John Hart and Jack Harkness When: Early afternoon; after their 'chat' Where: Some old thrashed bar in town What: Drinks and anything that might arise from them Rating: TBD
The place was a dive. It was past a barrier, in a safe zone, and surprisingly crowded. Inside, there was only one theme: how many different colors, qualities, and kinds of wood can we cram in one room? The bar, however, was beautiful in how high the bottles were stacked up against the old, mottled mirror behind it. The prices weren't a concern because Jack would be buying, whether or not he knew it yet. He was the one gone native and John didn't exactly carry proper tender for every backwoods planet he visited. His weapons, however, might've been. John wasn't a stranger to being leered at.
"I'll have three of those, three of those, and that bottle," John ordered near-immediately once he'd pushed past a few larger men at the bar who hardly concerned him. The bartender cocked an eyebrow and turned to go for the bottle first, touching each lid until he was nodded to.
"Better be able to pay for that," he was told.
Hart smirked and reached out to screw the top off of the tall bottle of Tequila and took an immediate swig. He turned his back to the bar while the shots were poured and took a look around. Any minute now... might as well get started early, it wasn't as if they'd make nice unless Jack had a change of heart. Of course that only made it more exciting.