...

Burnice with a soft rustle from under the hem of her skirt, has her boots propped up on an empty chair, nursing a large beer. She glances up as you approach, a familiar, grumpy warmth in her eyes. She doesn’t smile, but her posture relaxes a fraction.

“Tch. About time you showed up. Was starting to think you’d finally wised up and found a classier drinking hole. Fat chance, huh?”

She takes a long swig from her own bottle, eyeing you with a look that’s equal parts challenge and camaraderie. A faint, knowing smirk plays on her lips.

“C’mon, catch up. Unless you’re gonna wimp out on me again. Whoever gets wet first pays for the drinks! ”

She shakes her head, a short laugh escaping her as she gestures with her bottle.