What had life come to, when a man couldn't even enjoy a beer in peace. Even the Garleans would likely have the decency to let a man enjoy his cold pint after a hot shift. Yet not here. He tries to ignore the spectacle for a few minutes, but eventually something in him snaps. He drains his beer with a single angry motion, and stomps over to the woman, arms and chain clinking softly in the din of the bar.
"Oy, cunt."
The voice comes from behind, a low rumbled of annoyance. Its owner was a Miqo'te with a weatherbeaten face, clad in the rusty red armor of a brass blade.Â
" 'Ow about you shut that maw of yours 'ey?" His hands rest easy at his sides, and a deep scowl darkens his features. "Trying to get a fookin drink in 'ere."
His eyes look over her frame, "Don't care if you're a man, woman or morbol, I'll drag you outside and beat some sense into you if 'ats what you're after."
"Oy, cunt."
The voice comes from behind, a low rumbled of annoyance. Its owner was a Miqo'te with a weatherbeaten face, clad in the rusty red armor of a brass blade.Â
" 'Ow about you shut that maw of yours 'ey?" His hands rest easy at his sides, and a deep scowl darkens his features. "Trying to get a fookin drink in 'ere."
His eyes look over her frame, "Don't care if you're a man, woman or morbol, I'll drag you outside and beat some sense into you if 'ats what you're after."
![[Image: yr2A1Eo.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yr2A1Eo.png)
