DATE: July 3, 1920
TIME: 1:15 am
PLACE: Club Entre Nous
@loganscoutures
She’s been mainly quiet since it happened, two men tumbling headlong into the backstage area engaged in a brawl. Quiet even when someone pointed out to her that her arm was bleeding from the subsequent tumble she’d taken on colliding with them. Blood down the arm meant running the risk of tarnishing her newest dress. That would be an undoubted waste – and so Evanna sits upon the bar now, bare feet dangling far above the ground. The patrons were ushered out after the skirmish, sent out their back alley ways so as not to be seen. But the employees remain, cleaning up the general mess and each other. Evanna nods toward the increasingly familiar bartender that she’s nearest – or, rather, she nods toward the rag behind him. “Would you mind passing me that? Napkins aren’t quite cutting it, it seems.” After a quiet nod of thanks and a huffed sigh after applying pressure to the offended forearm, Evanna shrugs. “Well. Suppose they’re right in saying that there’s never a dull moment. Not here, anyhow.” The curve of her lips isn’t a smile – not quite. “I’ve been privy to a fight or two in the past,” she admits. Quite the understatement. “But never something quite like that. Did you catch what they were on about? Or was it just the drinks that got to them?”