Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
Trevor rolled his eyes at Gretchen, making a face at her reminder. Where did she get off acting like he was some bratty child. He could be as bratty and childish as he wanted, didn't mean she could whinge about it. "Fine, Natalie," he leaned back in the booth and watched the petite blond weaving in and out of the crowd and sipped his whiskey.
"Who the hell is she anyway," he started to ask, trailing off when a few hags trundled past the table, revealing Natalie right beside them. Trevor let the question drop with a shrug. He could put up with Gretchen's friends, wasn't the first time, just so long as she wasn't annoying or troublesome, he didn't care too much.