song_tra_bong: (golden)
After checking the directions on a scrap of paper, Mary Anne stops outside room 19 and knocks.

"Oy! Little birds tell me it's your birthday--you in there?

I brought tequila..."
song_tra_bong: (le tired)
From here:

He's been here before, two flights up and first door on the right. She unlocks the door and nudges it open with her hip, stepping inside.
song_tra_bong: (woman like a man)
The door opens onto a dimly lit bar. Two men in suits sit at a table by the wall, speaking in low voices; they don't look up when Mary Anne and Ramon walk in.

Four men at the pool table in the back do look up, then go back to their game. Their rolled up sleeves show off jailhouse tattoos--tattoos that mean murderers, time served, rank in their organization. Just because they aren't staring openly doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. The fact that no one makes a fuss just yet over Ramon's machine gun is telling.

A waitress in a short skirt goes by with a tray, delivering drinks to the suits by the wall. Mary Anne heads for the bar, taking a seat that's a few stools over from the next man. She beckons the bartender over.

"Vodka for me and my friend," she says in flawless Russian. "And keep them coming. We're out on the town tonight."

The bartender shakes his head. "You picked a hell of place to come," he says, but pours the drinks all the same then wanders down to the customer at the other end of the bar.


song_tra_bong: (Default)
Mary Anne Bell

February 2010



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