The Rebel Faction

Middle class bar, new, art deco and a lower less known S and M bondage level. Named "Kenko". Boring mostly. Lots of women. Jamo yawned and looked about. Traditional garb for the place seemed to be shirts and ties upstairs, and whips and chains downstairs. Not exactly the best of combinations, but he wasn't complaining.

Through the shield of his yellow lenses, he surveyed the area. Leaning back against the bar, scotch in hand, he yawned again. Nothing to do what so ever. Jaina was married now, so he couldn't pass the time by flirting with her. It looked like his newly grown goatee was blunting his skills with the ladies.

"Eh.."

Perhaps a little too much alcohol tonight? His mind had become jagged. Thoughts simple. Slow. Nothing too complicated for him to deal with. Blacking out, seems good.

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Unconsious.

Jamo choked out a cough and groaned loudly as he founded his face was covered in some fruit juice - he now officially was lemony fresh.

"What the.."

His eyes focused as he looked upwards. A grin crept over his drenched face as he removed his sun glasses, wiping them dry.

"...Well hey there."

Jamo grinned through the drunken haze, choking back a hiccup.

"Wow, what a sharp wit."

Even while he was inebriated, his sarcasm showed through. Finally, some form of intelligence kicked in.

"Who are you? And why are you pouring stuff on me? Is this a wet t-shirt competition?"

Another hiccup, laced with bile. Jamo cringed.

"I feel... @#%$."

He brought one hand up and mussed his hair, getting up to his feet slowly.

"Eh, so you usually pity drunks or am I just lucky?"

Absently, his hand moved to his waist to feel for the holster of his pistol.

"Oh really?"