Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
"Fuck you, Watkins!" Trevor slammed his empty glass down on the bar, oblivious to the faces that whipped in their direction. "You should know that's shite," he asserted, hopping off his stool and tugged on his belt. "Or do I need to remind her?" He made a point the shout the last bit as if directing the last bit to the unfortunate individuals sitting and standing around them.