Qrow had been nursing a glass of whisky for most of 20 minutes now, this being his third such glass, fortunately he didn’t exactly have anywhere he needed to be anytime soon. As if he really ever did. He hadn’t had a linear directive for years. Most of the missions he was sent on anymore were more of the gather information and report back variety. As he took another nip, he turned on his stool to see exactly who had walked into the bar. A commotion in their wake, a young brunette in a full red getup was making her way to the bar. It was no secret that this woman had a commanding presence.
“I’m used to whisky having a burn to it, but yours must be pretty strong if even the bartenders are afraid of you here!”
As he finished his statement, he downed the rest of his drink and requested another,
“Name’s....” he opted to give a fake name since he was sort of undercover, “Clint. And yours?”