@snovvflake
She’s always been an avid fan of neon signs, hopelessness and places that bore the skeleton of what once was an American Dream. So yeah, she ‘digs’ Lou’s Tavern, Bar, whatever. Tulip’s happily sat in a corner, buzzed from whatever it was that she shot up on previously that evening, booze-galore an’ plenty a’cigarettes an’ weed. And she sits. Sits there for goddamn hours, gets up to piss sometimes, watches the world buzz around her. Girls an’ their fellas flirting at the bar, workin’ men drinking their woes away, she watches it all. She’s done this a few times here before, likes it here. Knows there’s more to it all. Friggin’ Tyler Dirtin’ whats-his-name always slippin’ into conversations she hears around her.
An’ he’s there now. Place is empty, she realizes, save for him ‘n Lou himself an’ Tulip’s not havin’ it. She wants to sit in peace, simmer in carefully prepared rage and think on the vengeance she’s got planned. “Ya either let me in on whatever gig’s goin’ on after-hours or you goddamn try t’carry me out. Either way you’re the one that’s gon’ get a black eye,” Tulip announces this with a prim, cocky-ass little look on her face, crossing her legs and planting her palms upon her knees, a polite, non-verbal message of ‘try-me-bitch.’