Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Trevor pulled away from Gretchen's ear when he noticed her waving, looking out at the crowd for a reason. What he saw was a tiny blond by the bar that stuck out like a sore thumb, waving back energetically. "That's her?" Trevor asked, wondering what it was about this bird that had Gretchen dragging them both to the pub. She was fit, yes, but he'd expected more along the lines of a client or contact, and those types, male or female, were generally much less fit.