closed for: @finneassullivan
where: sulley’s tavern
“Wow,” DJ says as he looks his friend up and down in an obvious manner once he had finally arrived at the all too familiar bar, feigning some sort of aghast shock at his utterly normal appearance. “You really did mean it when you said you weren’t dressing up for me. Not a single bell, not a single whistle.”
With a hand clutched to his chest, it’s not certain DJ would ever recover from this.
( Until he does, fourteen seconds later. )
“You’re lucky you’re offensively attractive even when you’re dressed like a depressed straight man styled you on the Sims.” He pulls up a stool and sits himself at the bar, peering over at the array of booze they offered as if he hasn’t been there several times. “Has Matt taken my cocktail suggestions on board yet? My handwritten on a napkin recommendations could truly elevate this place.”