For those heading to Shawn's floating bar, they might find themselves entering a a very different bar. This one looks like a real dive, the kind that you'd see on a Bronx street and very quickly pass by - which is exactly what it is. There's a plaque behind the bar, proclaiming the name of this place as The Trip Trap, and that it was established in 1933 - weirdly, it has a bridge engraved into the copper plating, complete with a troll under the bridge and three goats crossing above.
Everything is dingy and slapped together, there's a roughness to the place, but it's not unloved- it's just loved by rougher people than most. A pool table sits in the middle of the room, a dart board on the wall, both look like they have at least been played recently. A jukebox sits in a corner, playing out some soul music. In the other corner sits a cigarette machine, offering up a brand called Huff & Puff. The main beer on tap seems to be called Midas Gold. Both the cigarettes and the beer are cheap and awful - if you so deign to try it.
The palace is not without some people, though. The bartender is a white haired woman, carrying the unfriendly, world-worn demeanour found in all good Bronx Bartenders. Sitting at the bar is brown haired woman, there's definitely a familial resemblance to the woman behind the bar - while a bald, bearded man sits at a table in the far corner of the bar- isolated from everyone else, but still there. They all, for the most part, ignore you when you first enter.
Sitting with his back to the door, hunched over the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him is Gren. In his glamour, for now. At the sound of the door closing, he does give a soft, annoyed scoff, speaking without turning around.
Gren's room | Shawn's bar | OTA
Everything is dingy and slapped together, there's a roughness to the place, but it's not unloved- it's just loved by rougher people than most. A pool table sits in the middle of the room, a dart board on the wall, both look like they have at least been played recently. A jukebox sits in a corner, playing out some soul music. In the other corner sits a cigarette machine, offering up a brand called Huff & Puff. The main beer on tap seems to be called Midas Gold. Both the cigarettes and the beer are cheap and awful - if you so deign to try it.
The palace is not without some people, though. The bartender is a white haired woman, carrying the unfriendly, world-worn demeanour found in all good Bronx Bartenders. Sitting at the bar is brown haired woman, there's definitely a familial resemblance to the woman behind the bar - while a bald, bearded man sits at a table in the far corner of the bar- isolated from everyone else, but still there. They all, for the most part, ignore you when you first enter.
Sitting with his back to the door, hunched over the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him is Gren. In his glamour, for now. At the sound of the door closing, he does give a soft, annoyed scoff, speaking without turning around.
"I think you're lost, Pal."
[[ooc: will match writing style!]]