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[i-slay-too.livejournal.com]

Abigail is in the bar. Actually she's technically leaning on the bar, not choosing to sit at the moment. "Alright bar tonight I want...a screwdriver." Something simple, pretty strong, but won't knock her on her rear. She doesn't need to be drunk. She's left some of her toys upstairs. The bow and quiver of arrows are missing. She's still got a shiny silver thing hooked on her and a gun holster on her thigh. But she's sans her most deadly weapon so obviously she's starting to trust the place.