A bad day? Rhainn was familiar with bad days. She’d had her fair share of them, and had caused more than her fair share in return. Her wiry body was riddled with scars and bruises from ‘bad days’. Property damage, destroyed lives, broken bones and missing teeth- these had all followed in Rhainn’s wake, from bad days.
A teensy bit of water did not a ‘bad day’ constitute, in Rhainn’s world. Her lips pursed skeptically, and she arched one auburn eyebrow, then grunted. Yeah, he knew more than he was tellin’… and she intended to learn.
She rolled one shoulderblade back, then leaned her head slowly to one side, twisting to jerk the vertebra with a series of loud crunches, back into place. A slow intake of breath, and she drew her posture a bit straighter, turning her head to study the place where the strange man with his shadows and unnatural strength had been.
The corner, now vacated, held no more than its fair share of sour spilled beer and broken glass. Nothing that would have caused the strange lighting, though she supposed that could have merely been a trick of the eye. Her eyes did another sweep of the bar, but found nothing interesting. She turned back to John, and offered him a small smile. It didn’t meet her eyes.
“Thanks for the drink.” She paused, and the edge of her lip twisted up in a smirk; this expression seemed to fit her better than an honest smile. “And your lesson in how to drive away men was enlightening. I’ll remember to keep soap on me.”
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