(( rped with Miranda. Thanks for the play!))

It was the late hours of another night in one of the many dive bars in Rhydin. The crowd was kind of a rough one, but Miranda didn't seem to mind. She was drinking her anxiety away on yet another dead lead. Her black leather jacket was hung over the back of her chair. She wore a black tank top, skinny jeans tucked into boots that matched her jacket. Miranda was hunched over the table, toned arms resting on the surface as she fingered the rim of her almost-empty whisky glass.

He's right off the end of his shift. Still bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for a few drinks before he grabbed breakfast. Either Voo would be up for it or she could just eat it whenever she crawled outta bed. Chase rolled his shoulders back when he stepped into the inn, his eyes caste down as he checked the messages and some YouTube vids on his phone.

Fingernails scraped her upper arm, raking at the tattoo before she shifted in her seat. Her hands came to her eyes, rubbing furiously. She wasn't the type to wear make-up, it seemed like a waste of the day. Applying, reapplying. She'd never got any complaints before. "Son of a bitch..." she hissed lightly, pinching the bridge of her nose as her other hand fell away to clutch around her glass. She was two drinks in and miserable. Far from shit faced, but definitely feeling it.

Chase took a place right up at the bar beside her, dropping two fingers to say he wanted to order some poison. By the time the barkeep came around he cleared his throat, "How about a vodka and pineapple?" It kinda seemed like the smartass thing to say, except he meant it. Pineapple was freakin' good.

The glass was brought to her lips and she took a long drink, draining half of what was left. The ice knocked against her lips and clattered back against the bottom. Starry eyes stared on, and she saw the back of him from her table. She squinted, trying to figure out if it was him or if it was just his back twin. She didn't call out just yet, because she wasn't sure.

It's the same kinda messy dark hair and the same lean he takes with one elbow to the bar. That was pretty unmistakable. And if anything? There's also is his voice as he pitches to the bartender, "And how about a Badsidder, yeah?" A few bills slapped to the counter top. Chase had zero expectation of seeing anyone he knew so he didn't even look. His gaze just stuck with the bartender.

The woman stared for a good moment while the bartender served him. Weighing her options as she tilted her drink back and completely drained it. A piece of ice was plucked from it and slid between her lips before she finally said something. "Chase," it was loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

Loud enough and clear enough that he turned his head, right over his shoulder, when the beer he ordered landed in his hand. His eyes were looking for the source, but now that he was really looking he saw her. HER. There was recognition and everything when their gazes me, "Miranda...?"

The redhead looked up at him, the corner of the right side of her mouth ticked up in a half a smile. She didn't answer, because he knew it was her. He had to. Her booted foot lifted up to the other side of the table, kicking the chair out. The invitation was there if he wanted to join her. Still sucking on that ice chip.

It was the sort of invitation that was hard to just say no to. Chase exhaled, steeling himself with a swallow of his beer and taking a seat in the chair her foot had knocked cockeyed to the table. The coin edge bottom of his glass was balanced on the table as he looked to her, "Been a while. Been a long while."

The alcohol burned in her face, creating a sort of blush effect that seemed to have been permanent since well before he came in. Her fingers drummed on the table, and when he took the invitation, she smiled in a weak way. "Yeah it has. How've you been, Vines?"

His head rolled to the side, his expression amused when she hit him with his last name. Sounded nefarious, the way she delivered it. He tipped back his beer for a swallow as he looked at her, "Yeah, well... been hard. You know all that, though. What brings you back around this side of the Barlow camp? You gettin' your nose in shit you shouldn't?"

A shard of ice was plucked from her glass and popped into her mouth as her brows furrowed and she stared at him like he'd just insulted her mother. "First of all, my nose is always clean." Not true, so not true, but she snapped and pointed at him with a solemn shake of her red-dressed head. She clicked her teeth and averted her eyes, "Yeah, I know how hard it is..." she nodded. There was a small part of her that still resented Voodoo for the tricks she played after Lexi's death. "I talked to Mark, he's okay if I stick around. Even offered to help get me work in the tattoo biz," she said with a shrug.

Chase didn't look like he believed her, just that he wasn't going to argue it. His head rolled to one side, his eyes studying the stubbed corner of his beer as he listened. When she said Mark was okay with her sticking around he blinked, not really hiding his surprise at the prospect of her being around, "Yeah? You still hadn't said why you were around here. Voo's gonna wanna see you." Not really, but it was still something to think about.