Ash looked at her beer with disdain.
She’d been strongly encouraged to socialize more with her fellow officers,
and so when Emily had persuaded her to go to a party that was being thrown at Bourbon Cowboy on Bourbon Street by some of their coworkers she had acquiesced,
so long as she got to bring someone to help her keep her sanity.
She liked Emily, she did, but she knew her partner was a bit of a party girl and when alcohol was involved Emily was going to go off and flit around like a social butterfly.
So she’d asked Crichton to come with her, saying the drinks were going to be covered up to $75 a person, which she doubted they’d even touch, and he was game.
Oh, she was glad she’d invited him.
It wasn’t that it was a
place. She just wasn’t fond of the country music, though the rock music wasn’t so bad.
The mechanical bull didn’t interest her, though she’d seen Emily on it a few times, and most of the people from work were too busy getting pissed and chatting each other up to pay her much mind.
She and Crichton had been sitting up on the second-floor balcony bar, sipping their pints of Abita Andygator.
The two of them had found this was a brand they favoured at the many bars they ended up going to.
And the wonderful thing about this particular brew was that it had a higher alcohol content than most of the other ones that Abita put out so they could get pissed a lot faster.
They’d had some other flavors downstairs but decided fuck it when they went upstairs to get some air on the balcony and got something harder.
Now they were on their second pints and, to be honest, this was a better way to spend the evening than getting to know her co-workers who couldn’t be bothered to approach her.
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