The room large and crowded. Air polluted with sess and froth. Muffle music played through the board, even with a herd of people drowning it out.
"You're busy this night." The words soberly slurred out, while holding up a shot-glass for a refill.
"You didn't hear?" The bar keeper asked, placing down his rag, pulling out a bottle of brandy to fill her glass. "Those Flannels finally got a lead against the Bruises." Stopping when the glass was full and set the bottle down, re-grabbing to wipe the bar table. "Having full range to cross over with no problem."
"How that happen?"
"That news I haven't heard, yet."
"From all the fun they're having, the slate must be glad to have clean. For once."
"You know that saying."
"Clean slates, don't come a dime a dozen." Ending with a sigh before taking a sip of her drink. "Even able to rid an Achromatic Stag, doesn't mean anything."
"And what does a little Brumous fille, like you, say otherwise?" Questioning with a smirk.
"Be right back, I hope to hear an answer." And leaves with one finally smile.
By the time he came back, the young woman was gone. The drinks paid, a nice tip, and a note. Gladly taking it, glum seeing the woman gone, but she leaves something. Opening the note once placing the money away.
A thin brow from the large guy rose out of signified.
A win like this is a clean slate, but this person would stain it. Dark like him. The Slates empty, waiting to fill again. Leaving only Gray steaks behind. A Dark Slate Gray. It means of a lingering moment should not be easily forgotten. For those problems will be back.