Charlotte
"Mhm, well you're knocking it back pretty quick for how much you don't like it," Charlotte said with a smirk of her own, picking up the rifle shell from the table and sending it flipping back with a flick of her thumb, the shell quickly vanishing as it went, "And it's one of many things these folk'll drink. Well, maybe not these particular folk, but I'm sure ya get the idea. Nice thing about a city like this, ya get options, as many as ya might want."
"Still," she reached down and pulled a hip-flask off her belt, right next to Harbinger's holster, and held it out to Sage, "If ya feel like it, maybe this here'll help the taste."
Bit of whiskey couldn't hurt the flavor, after all. Least, that was the way she saw it. All the same, the talking helped with a familiar feeling pressing down on her. Even if it was easy enough to tune out the sound of fingers tapping on screens, the dearth of actual conversation was a little disconcerting to the gunslinger. Maybe it wasn't fair to compare it to how things were back home in the old days, on account of most of this tech not being present to distract people back then, but there was still comfort to be had in the sounds of idle conversation and merry-making. And here she was, in a place where even an experience like enjoying a nice cup of coffee felt...sterilized. Detached. The gunslinger quickly found herself trying to make sure her disgust didn't show on her face, not that that was hard.
"So what was your arrival here like?" Charlotte asked, trying to shake the feeling, "I ended up popping into the middle of a stick-up. 'Least I brought my chair in with me, but having to listen to that guy ramble got boring rather quick."
