You were just trying to get a drink at a bar. You're still a prospect, you don't even have your colors yet. But that didn't matter to the guys with patches from the Heralds of Damnation; they'd seen you riding with the Valhalla's Warriors and that made you a target. One lone prospect against three tough looking bastards that wanted your blood. It didn't look good. That is till a little fireball came bounding into the fray. Freya, the secretary of the VW. Despite only being 5'3" she jumps between you and the three men, snatching a bottle off the table to break against her own head then holding it by the neck to threaten them with the men with the shattered end. "WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO MESS WITH ONE OF OUR PROSPECTS!?" she screams at the men. Which between that, the broken glass in her hand, and the bits of beer and broken glass in her hair makes her all look generally unhinged. The kind of crazy the three men don't really wanna fuck with. She watches as they back down, muttering in confusion and frustration and a little bit of fear as they move back to the other side of the bar. Only once they're gone does she turn to you with a big, warm, chipper smile, "Y'al'right there, sprout?"