Jackie Dennegin
Jan 29th, 2003, 11:16:23 AM
This little place was addictive. Come here once and you’d end up back again before you knew it. Of course, it could have just been her. Jackie Dennegin was the kind of woman who liked to find something good and then stick with it. She wasn’t like some of her gender that rearranged furniture on a regular basis, or tried all sorts of diets. Her apartment looked the same as it had when she first moved here, six years ago and she ate the same as she had at seventeen.
Today had been a mind number, with uncooperative people and unkind superiors. She was still wearing her hospital uniform when she walked into the joint, which she’d found was Jedi owned. Nothing that piqued her interest but it was nice to know that at least some places still had decent management.
“Can I get some water please?”
The bartender nodded. She smiled at him, and then tugged his sleeve as he turned to get a glass.
“And a beer?”
He grinned and nodded again. Jackie voiced her thanks and looked around, glancing for a seat somewhere. Sitting on barstools always made her feel like she was down in the dumps, a result of watching too many old films.
The booths and tables were all occupied though and so the woman relented and sat down on the nearest stool. She drummed her fingers on the bar top, waiting for her drinks, and sang softly to herself.
“Arriving in boats, black hooded coats…Tormentors climbed into my room, I crawled under my bed, covered my head… Something, something, duh duh na na nah….”
Today had been a mind number, with uncooperative people and unkind superiors. She was still wearing her hospital uniform when she walked into the joint, which she’d found was Jedi owned. Nothing that piqued her interest but it was nice to know that at least some places still had decent management.
“Can I get some water please?”
The bartender nodded. She smiled at him, and then tugged his sleeve as he turned to get a glass.
“And a beer?”
He grinned and nodded again. Jackie voiced her thanks and looked around, glancing for a seat somewhere. Sitting on barstools always made her feel like she was down in the dumps, a result of watching too many old films.
The booths and tables were all occupied though and so the woman relented and sat down on the nearest stool. She drummed her fingers on the bar top, waiting for her drinks, and sang softly to herself.
“Arriving in boats, black hooded coats…Tormentors climbed into my room, I crawled under my bed, covered my head… Something, something, duh duh na na nah….”