“Damn,” Grey muttered as she entered the bar. Her eyes took in all the photographs and Greek memorabilia hanging on the wall. Up until today, Grey had assumed that all the pictures she had seen were concentrated to one specific area of town—one designated pretty place. Now, she was realizing that the Gods had really taken the extra mile to create this town.
This self-honoring, self-important monument to their own generosity, fueled by their nepotist children who would sacrifice themselves at the drop of a coin for a shiny new weapon.
Grey rolled her eyes and took a seat at the bar. “Johnnie Walker Black,” she called out, slapping a twenty on the counter. “I take it neat.” She turned her head to the person sitting beside her and nodded. “Sup.”