Beth gives a smirk. If she is honest, there are a few mangy dogs in the joint, like he says. Though mangy dogs don’t necessarily have to be attributed to just the streets or the number six. There are a few mangy mutts who frequent the Luxe too, only they hide it better with their clean attire and the company they keep. Nowhere in the city is free from lameass lowlifes.
Beth takes the beer and smiles. “Cheers…” Immediately she brings the bottle to her lips and takes a hefty swig of it. “Slightly bitter, but who cares…it does the job..” The brunette uses the back of her hand to wipe away the residue on her top lip. “Let’s try and find a seat..I need to park my ass down for a while…been on my feet all day..” Holding a bottle in the air as she pushes her way through the masses, Beth nearly gets there when suddenly one guy takes objection to moving.
"I will move if you dance with me, Darlin’"
Both his hands grip her hips and pull Beth forwards to slam against him. The brunette sighs and shakes her head, before bringing her knee up sharp and it crashes into his crotch. “Fuck you…” She leans down and speaks next to his ear. “Do that again and will smash my bottle over your melon fucking head…” Beth plasters a wide grin on her face and stands upright again, before seeing an empty table over in the corner. “Here we go..”
Gareth stilled as he watched the interaction between the man and Beth. All pretence of the Southern country-bumpkin was dropped and he narrowed his eyes on the stranger. Appearance secured to memory. Beth seemed to have things under control, but he'd deal with the man later. Not that he cared for the woman. Not at all. But he was enjoying her company. And Gareth didn't like anyone messing with what he considered his. Even if it was only temporarily.
"You ok?"
He slid into the corner with her and took a swig of his beer.
"I mean, y'dealt with that real well. I was impressed. I mean, I'd be shittin' bricks personally."
