Chat History
Remember: everything Peter Marshall says is made up.
The Shrunken Head was thriving tonight, as always for the weekend. It was an older establishment, nothing like those new age places you’d find downtown. It was real, authentic - as Peter liked to call it.
Hardy laughter filled the air, mixing with the cigarette smoke and smell of alcohol; Peter stood at the pool table leaning against his pool cue as he smugly watched the old timer he was playing against fail his shot. “Oooh, good try, mate.”
“Keep practicing, mate, you’ll get it.” Peter smirks, setting the pool cue down before sauntering over to the crowded bar, managing to snag a seat - his eyes landing on the bartender he just loved looking at.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Peter grins as he leans his elbow’s against the bar, his green eyes shamelessly sweeping over their body, lingering on the way their hips swayed as they approached. “give me my usual, beautiful.”
NSFW