Thread: The Shadow of South Carolina (True Grave & The Unusual Panda)

Wynter was currently running around like a chicken with her head cut off, the petite girl cursing her father under her breath as she flew through the bar, trying to get e everything done. Of course, he left her alone to run the bar on the busiest day of the week. It was fight night, which meant that in about seven hours, every person within a five mile radius would be in here, shouting over each other and shoving money in each other's faces to bet on the fighters. The nineteen year old wasn't necessarily a fan of the fighters, mostly because almost all of them were arrogant and thought that they could get in her pants the second they won a fight, just because she was the daughter of the owner. Boy, did they have another thing coming. She was spit and vinegar, and she had to be. She worked in the city around drunk men that were constantly grabbing at her. And the work uniform didn't really leave a ton to the imagination A low cut, long sleeve plaid shirt that was tied right above her midriff, a pair of absolutely form fitting faded jean shorts, and, of course, cowboy boots. They got a lot of customers from all around, so her father wanted to really perpetuate that southern girl stereotype, even if it meant his own daughter walking around in what she considered barely anything. Finally, back at the bar, she let herself breathe, silvery blonde curls falling into her face as she leaned down to grab a glass from under the counter. She filled it up with whiskey, the amber liquid shining in the sunlight that was coming through a skylight above her as she dumped some ice into it. Although she technically wasn't legally allowed to drink yet, her father didn't care as long as she didn't get wasted in front of the customers. Her pale aqua colored eyes scanned the bar slowly, immediately stopping on a man who had just entered the bar. He stuck out like a sore thumb for obvious reasons, but she immediately knew his type. He was a fighter, or at least a trouble maker from the way he carried himself, and she wanted no part of it. She turned around quickly, not even getting a good look at him as she took a sip of her drink and placed it on the back of the bar. Of course, when she heard the voice behind her ask about the fight, she knew it was him. Everyone around here knew that in order to fight, you had to sign up at least 24 hours in advance, so she just sort of shook her head, her voice somewhat stern as if she expected trouble as she turned around. Listen, you can't just walk on in here and expe- As she came face to face with him however, her voice caught in her throat, the young woman staring at him for a moment before swallowing hard. His smile caught her off guard, and she immediately looked down at the counter as she composed herself. See, Wynter hadn't ever really had a boyfriend. Well, technically in eight grade she had kissed a boy, but that was it. She went through a sort of ugly duck stage in high school, and it wasn't until senior year that she blossomed into the gorgeous thing she was now. But by then, she had learned how nasty people could be, and no one in her town would ever get anywhere with her romantically. She looked back up at him not even a second later, smiling slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear. You can't just expect to sign up for a fight without buyin' a drink first I have to get the paperwork together and walk you through the rules. She said sweetly, trying to adjust her shirt to cover more of her larger than average chest. The blonde reached under the counter and took out a rather thick roster, placing it onto the counter with a thud as she opened it up to tonight's list. She looked over the open slots, biting her lip slightly before smiling. An odd number of people had signed up, which made it work out perfectly for him to sign up. As long as her father didn't find out, she'd be golden. Normally, you have to sign up the day before, at least, but I'm gonna make an exception cause you ain't from around here. You just can't let my father find out, otherwise he'll have my hide. Rules are no shirts, no shoes, no belts, no weapons. Fighting in any way, shape, or form is allowed, oh, and you have to sign this waiver, in case you get killed or something'. She slipped a piece of paper in front of him, which pretty much alleviated all responsibility of the bar in case of death or injury. After all, they had to pretend as if they followed the rules of the state. She then held a pen out to him, smiling slightly as she looked over his face slowly. So, you wanna sign up?