1 Reunions [Open/No Kill] Fri Sep 06, 2013 2:35 am
Isamu
D-rank
Isamu arrived at the bar, going through the double doors and being greeted with a burst of absolute...silence. Wow. Club scene wasn't that hardcore today, he supposed. Sairento was somewhere behind him (he had practically sprinted all the way here, leaving his student in the dust), but his focus was on something else: alcohol. He wanted to drink, bad. He approached the bartender casually, sitting in one of the raised seats and leaning his elbows on the table. The bartender gave him a sideways glance, clearly annoyed by the Jounin already. Isamu couldn't help it, he would always be a child at heart. "Ahem, I'll have your strongest...uh, scotch, thanks!" Isamu asked, a large smile on his face.
The bartender gave him a nod before working on the drink. The Maeda turned his sights to the few people around, finding no one of particular interest and no one that he recognized. The bartender noticed his scanning of the building, and simply said, "it'll get packed soon enough, just wait until sunset." Isamu figured he was probably right, and as the bartender set the drink down on the table, he held it in his hand, waiting for Sairento to catch up. One sniff of the drink abhorred his olfactory senses, and he coughed loudly. What the hell is in this...!? Mr. Bartender-Guy, whose nametag read "Kairo", stared it him, now exponentially irritated. "It's call alcohol, smart one." Isamu gave him a glare and took a swig, choking it down. It tasted terrible, but he wasn't going to let Kairo know that he thought so. He was 21, and dammit, he would get drunk and like it!
The bartender gave him a nod before working on the drink. The Maeda turned his sights to the few people around, finding no one of particular interest and no one that he recognized. The bartender noticed his scanning of the building, and simply said, "it'll get packed soon enough, just wait until sunset." Isamu figured he was probably right, and as the bartender set the drink down on the table, he held it in his hand, waiting for Sairento to catch up. One sniff of the drink abhorred his olfactory senses, and he coughed loudly. What the hell is in this...!? Mr. Bartender-Guy, whose nametag read "Kairo", stared it him, now exponentially irritated. "It's call alcohol, smart one." Isamu gave him a glare and took a swig, choking it down. It tasted terrible, but he wasn't going to let Kairo know that he thought so. He was 21, and dammit, he would get drunk and like it!