Across the street from the Thirst Trap bar, Arro parked her gravbike, a crimson junker that looked like it could fall apart at any moment, at the curb. To a Nepleslian like her, Ternifac was just another concrete jungle with greasy scumbags, easy marks, and psycho gangbangers sporting enough chrome to light up the night. A Nepleslian knew places like this served some damn good alcohol, too, and the Thirsty Trap looked promising for no other reason than gut instinct. After locking her gravbike down, Arro strode across the street with a confident gait and a smile on her lips. Even though she'd found herself right back at the type of place she'd wanted to leave behind, tonight was a time to celebrate.
Predictably, the bar was crowded with a bevy of patrons, some civilian, some Star Army -- to Arro's surprise. Although she was a newly-graduated soldier, Arro had hit the town in a plain set of jeans, a white tanktop, and a loose fitting jacket. She wasn't on duty after all, and taking a naked dive out an airlock was preferable to getting a speck of dirt on her uniform. Arro fished a thin band from her pocket and hastily tied the back of her short, auburn red hair into a stubby ponytail, just in case any of those Star Army soldiers recognized her. With her hair properly secured, Arro approached an uncrowded spot at the bar and rested her arms atop it. Some of the bar's lights reflected off the young woman's cybernetic hand, until she noticed, then proceeded to cover with her other, olive-skinned hand.
"Gimme a drink," Arro said brusquely, rapping her knuckles on the counter to punctuate the request, "Gin on th'rocks, cheapest ya got. Please'n thanks." Her voice was high-pitched and coarse, the audio equivalent to crawling on glass. Rather than eavesdropping on any of the conversations like a lowdown ruffman, Arro's attention was on any sort of screen showing something interesting -- like a gravbike race.
