[i]"Jac would be best, you'll see why," Jacqui said in a friendly manner, as she pulls out her phone and started scrolling through contacts, eventually texting two people she knew. [/i]

[i]Em shrugs and keeps walking.[/i] "Alright, I guess you're Jac now. May I ask why not J? Is one of the drinking buddies already known as J?"

[i]"JT, yeah. J and JT are somewhat similae, so it would just lead to confusion." [/i]

"How much longer until we're there? I think I've done enough walking for today." [i]She says in a half joking half serious manner.[/i]

[i]"Just a mo- never mind," Jacqui says as they turn a corner, approaching the bar. [/i] [spoiler]Bar's got a deacription, so I'm not gonna describe it. Takes too long IMO. [/spoiler]

[spoiler]Alright.[/spoiler] "Perfect timing, Jac." [i]She opens the door and holds it for Jacqui.[/i] "After you."

[i]Jacqui bows, smiles, and enters, approaching the men that waited for the two of them. The first fit the bill of a cowboy, with one noticeable difference. The man stood at a tall six-foot-three feet tall in height and had the shoulders of an ideal football player, making him seem like a rather large cowboy. He bore a dirt brown duster on his large and muscular body, riddled with bullet holes from escapades prior and with cuts lingering on the very bottom, the tatters of the duster blowing in the wind and bringing out the brown boots he bore. They had spurs that went jingle, jangle, jingle and matched his hat fairly well, which concealed a lot of his face, with the exception of his beard. Gear-wise he was somewhat well armed. On his back was a shotgun, one with three barrels and looking to be break action, god knows what kind of ammo was loaded in that thing. On his hips were two revolvers, both onyx black and inscribed with words on them, though they were too dirtied to make out. He appeared to have a cybernetic left arm, which was all black and made of carbon fibre with an orange stripe running along the top of the left forearm, his sleeves rolled enough for it to be seen. It had the blue insignia of a Cobalt Phoenix on the center of the stripe, with the letter J to its right and a T on the other, in a forest green. Sitting beside him was someone who looked normal, or at least as normal as one can look at a bar literally called the Lounge of Blades. He was a slim and athletic-bodied figure, like what a runner or a swimmer would be in terms of appearance. He bore a green jacket on his upper body with the words "Gen. Treyman" on the left breastpiece of the jacket - It was what a soldier got to keep when he left the war in Vietnam, though this was a different era's jacket. He bore a pair of deep blue jeans and a set of black basketball shoes, with a light white tee shirt on under the jacket that clung to his body in an almost ill-fitting manner, though it was rather thin and allowed a breeze to flow onto him. He didn't have anything in terms of weaponry, aside from a simple Colt Anaconda .44 revolver in a holster, on the inside of his jacket. He was military after all, so keeping a simple sidearm in a civilian environment was smart. He looked amazing facially, with a strong jawline and a set of blue eyes that stood out on his fair skin. He had a pair of light blue eyes that shined in the light, which captivated the interest of anyone that spoke to him, or even looked him in the eyes. Overall, he looked like a chill redheaded dude. Jacqui took a seat at the table they sat around as the bar was a bad spot to hold a conversation between four people. Treyman looked to be taking swigs from a vodka bottle periodically whilst JT, the Cowboy, chugged his whiskey whenever he had the chance. Jacqui just ordered a scotch. [/i]

[i]Emma cracks her neck before slowly messing with the bottom of her helmet to get it off. When she finally manages to unhook it and place it on the table, she reveals her shoulder length brown hair that covers her face almost completely. She quickly brushes that away so that everyone can get a better look at her bright blue eyes and sharp jawline. Her complexion is perfect except for a small, fresh cut on her right cheek with some dried blood surrounding it. Em gives the two men a friendly smile.[/i] "Hello, I'm Emma Gretzky."

[i]Treyman just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face, whilst JT just raised his glass with a smile, as a sort of greeting. "Wayne got -blam!-ed? Good for him, miss one hundred percent of the shot- Yeah no I'm not going anywhere with that." [/i] [spoiler]The rundown: Treyman: Hella chill, good dude, actually cares about people and doesn't like death. JJT: Crude, lewd and rather rude to people. He's cool with people who are cool with him, and says some offensive shit at times. [/spoiler]

[i]Emma chuckles a little before gesturing to the vodka.[/i] "Hey, can I have some? Actually, I should get one of my own, shouldn't I?" [spoiler]Okay. Em is just going to start out chill before slowly losing self control.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Then she'd likely get on well with Treyman. [/spoiler] [i]"No no, go right ahead," Treyman says as he slides the vodka across the table towards her, before leaning back into the chair. "I'm JT," the cowboy pipes up after taking a swig of his whiskey. "This ginger-ass -blam!- is Treyman." [/i]

"It's a pleasure to meet you two." [i]Em raises the vodka as a greeting of sorts before taking a large gulp of the liquid. She places it back down and slides it back to Treyman.[/i] "I needed that."

[i]"You're a vodka fan?" Treyman inquired with a chuckle, which followed his words. His tone was friendly, his accent was Canadian, and his posture was relaxed as he leaned onto the chair he sat on. [/I]

[i]Emma had a slight Canadian accent as well and smiles at Treyman with curiosity in her eyes.[/i] "Wait, are you Canadian? I recognize that accent." [i]She leans towards him a bit and looks him over before leaning back in her seat.[/i] "And yes, I do like my vodka."

[i]"That's right. Torontonian, born and raised, moved to Kitchener for college but enlisted with the army a year later." Treyman spoke with pride to his voice. He enlisted at the age of eighteen and worked his way up the ranks, reaching the title of General in the New Terran Republic; Only the Republic's president could legally order him around. [/i] [spoiler]Treyman was born on Earth, but in an alternate timeline, around the 2100's-2200's. Just so you aren't too confused with all this NTR stuff he tends to speak about. [/spoiler]

[i]Emma listens closely and nods.[/i] "Yeah? I was born in east Ontario. I went to the Frontier with the IMC because I wanted to see the new world, but...that kind of fell apart. I need something to drink."

[i]"What do you mean by 'Fell apart'?" Treyman asked, genuine interest arising in the voice of the soldier as he slid the vodka bottle towards Emma, and ordered another for himself via a passing barista. [/i]

[i]Emma gulps down most of the remaining bottle before answering.[/i] "IMC turned out to be really sh*tty and f*cked up so I joined the militia that fights against them. That's the extremely short version of the story. Ask me about the full story when I've either had more to drink or during my workout."

[i]"How -blam!-ed up?" [/i]

"Pretty f*cked up, but probably not the most f*cked up thing ever. It's just personal, you know? Can we move on to something more fun?"

[i]"Sure, sounds good. How old are you?" [/i]

"Don't you know not to ask a lady her age?" [i]She jokes and chuckles a bit.[/i] "I'm twenty seven. You?"

[i]Treyman: "Exact same, damn." [/i] [spoiler]By the way, none of this is on-the-spot shit for Treyman. These two are freakishly similar lmfao. [/spoiler]

[i]Em shrugs and raises her bottle.[/i] "To our dying youth." [i]She laughs before finishing the bottle.[/i]

[i]"Aye, and to drinking in general," Treyman merrily said, as he grabbed a vodka from a waitress and took a swig. JT: "So what kind of shit do you do in your free time?" [/i]