favorite game of thrones scenes
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@hedonistic-nate
favorite game of thrones scenes
It’s my birthday and I’ll wish for Josh Hartnett if I want to, okay?
So--... you don't want your present, in that case? Because I'm 'fraid to say, not even I could secure Josh Hotnett for your highness.
Apparently my mother has decided to have another child, I wasn't even sure vultures could continue to procreate after they began to age.
Harrison Sinclair let you have a dog? Color me shocked. I’ve thought about getting a dog before but they just require so much fucking effort, y’know? Hanson is basically self-sufficient— when I’m not feeding him, bathing him, loving him and picking up his shit out of a box. Dogs, hamsters, babies…so damn needy.
Hey now, quit your bitchin’. Alcohol is alcohol, Sinclair. Not to mention— I’ve gotten cozy in this joint on multiple occasions and it isn’t exactly a hole in the wall. You’re just going to get drunk and end up throwing one of these poor girls over your shoulder like a caveman. Do you really need marble floors and bow ties to do that? Do you?
For a grand total of two months. Apparently ol' Spike was a jolly big distraction. Because at eleven, school work is the most important thing, obviously. Babies? Hold your horses,there, Al. We're talking about dogs. Y'know? Woof, woof? I'll have no talk of children in my presence, thank you very much.
There's a huge difference between raspberry spritzers and a 200 pound bottle of scotch, I'll have you know. Your low expectations of me hurt. They may be partly true, but I like to think I have some level of compassion. Okay, no. So, marble floors and bow ties aren't necessary, but it's where I thrive, Britton. I look a lot better in a suit than I do in some print-tee and a pair of acid wash jeans.
"Somehow, I just have a feeling that if something as classy like that opens here in Bristol, it will be like a ghost town. Citizens here seem like the more rowdy type than the rich, classy type. Yeah, you’re right, I guess, somewhere outside of Bristol. So, you’re into that thing, then? Sorry, I just assumed you’d prefer the usual noisy kind of bar."
"Glass slippers, though? Do people even actually wear that?"
"I'm not disagreeing with you on that. The people here act as if it's wrong to be more than a poverty-stricken bum with a coke addiction. I wouldn't necessarily say I'm into that kind of thing, it's just the familiar."
"Noisy bars aren't really my scene. My thesis is, that if I'm going to drink myself into a coma, I'd rather do it in the privacy of my own home."
"It’s a stinking bar with only pedos and stoners to keep you company or grab your crotch from behind. If classy is what you want, then you should probably leave."
"Which one are you, then?" Nate paused, finishing the glass in his hand. "The pedo or the stoner?"
You do realize you’re in Bristol, yeah? Not exactly the epitome of class.
I can read a map, yes.
Every town has the potential for class, love.
Honestly?
Well, I mean, if you can’t tell me the truth on something so trivial there’s no point in asking a second question.
The only way to make something as trivial as Ashlee Simpson's natural hair colour, worth talking about-- is to lie about it, Bella.
Sorry to disappoint
Unless you, personally own this shit-hole, I wouldn't blame it on you.
"What exactly does classy mean to you? Clean and expensive-looking interior, imported alcohol and crystal clear glasses? I’m afraid it might be kind of impossible to find something like that these days. Unless you’re an old dude."
"That's exactly what I'd call classy; black tie, glass slippers, chandeliers, the works. And it is possible to find. I mean-- not in Bristol, obviously, but in other corners of the globe, classy does exist."
And in the land of gold mankinis and dogs that fit in your purse they told you it was overflowing with class here? That worries me.
In my defence, the only dog I ever had, was a St. Bernard.
I met one of the waitresses a few weeks back, told me I should check this place out, as if it were some sort of palace. -- Either way, consider me disappointed.
"Not the definition of classy but we’re working on it. I would of noticed it as soon as I walked in but hey, I’m not the one who decided to stay."
"I'd work harder, in that case."
"I'm exploring other options, y'know? Branching out from my regular. Not than any of the previously mentioned options are particularly enchanting."
"Go ahead, I’m not sure why anyone would wanna buy this shithole anyway but suit yourself. There is a rumor my boss hides dead bodies in the walls so watch out. Of course, I can’t say no to that anyway considering the drunker you get the more I get paid."
"Not for any particular reason, love. Just for the thrill of the purchase, or something equally materialistic."
"Sounds like a sad life, your one."
"Sorry I only take orders and make sure you keep drinking. You might wanna talk to our manager about that. Or some of the "classy" people here."
"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll buy the damn place, turn into a second garage, or something."
"Another glass, bar wench. I'm thinking whiskey, this time 'round."
This place isn't exactly what you'd call classy, now is it? I feel like I was lied to.