“Sweetheart, you’re not my type,” Thatcher answered easily, his attention on the bar instead of the people around him. He didn’t often come here, but it was closer than going to the Black Sheep or all the way to the Lagoon if he wasn’t working. He still felt out of place but tonight he couldn’t worry about it. He just wanted a drink.
“Would you be offended if I said that’s a relief?” Normally the blonde would have answered with some sort of snarky remark like ‘I’m everyone’s type’, but tonight she just wasn’t feeling up to it. Tink glanced over. She recognized him as the ‘Merman’ from the Lagoon. Her competition in a way, though she’d never really harbored any bad feelings for the Mermaids despite their alignment with the Rogers. And now of course she had no right to claim superiority when she was a traitor to her own. “To be quite honest, I wasn’t in the mood for company, and I figured it was the best way to keep away the sad ones looking for someone to pout to.”
