possiblities

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Bounty hunting was hard. No, not like reaching the top shelf hard. Not like solving a cube of rubik, hard. It was legitimately hard, and Gurk was getting pretty tired of it. It was all 'gather intel' and 'beat these people up' and 'take these literally death-defying risks' and 'hey Gurk be quiet we're trying to be sneaky' and 'I swear if you don't take this more seriously, Gurk, we'll kill you' and Gurk was feeling really dang persecuted. She had never been a beastfolk person, but she imagined this is what they felt like most of the time. She was being oppressed. Her personality was being suppressed. And it was making her dang-diddly-darn depressed.

Which was why she was here of all places. A bar. They were never quite her scene (everyone in bars tended to be tallies, and she thought booze-ohol was gross) but there was little else to do in the place they were scoping for info, so it was here she went. And she was right. The place was more crowded than Gurk would have hoped, and they were all tallies. Were there bars made for dwarfs and gnomes and halflings and other stoutfolk? Did they all go there and nobody had given her the lowdown? Or did stoutfolk just drink alone, in their homes, with no one else to bother them? Gosh, that sounded even worse than a bar.

Gurk tried to slide through the crowds of people, trying to discern at what longitude and latitude the bar was actually sitting at (as she couldn't see it), and found herself face-first in stomachs and legs and butts and crotches and it was the worst. Not the worst like bounty hunting was, but it really blew. And not in the way that her bombs blew up and it was really loud and cool and awesome. Like, in the way that this was really loud and annoying and stinky.

Eventually she took notice of some stools in front of a big, long hunk of wood, and used her impressive deductive abilities (TM) to solve the mystery of the bar's location. The next challenge was getting up to the counter that was not at all made for people who were between two and three feet tall. Thankfully this was a challenge she took on often, and so with her impressive climbing abilities (TM) she got atop a stool, and finally got herself an actual lay of the land. Yes, this was the bar. And there was the barkeep. And this was the crowd. And there was--

Oh. Well. Gurk's glasses dropped down her nose an inch so that she could take an untinted look at who sat next to her.

There was a girl, a woman, with bright colorful hair, piercing blue eyes, and just so many thinks that made Gurk realize that actually, bars were awesome. They were fantabulous. Bars held girls like her, who sat alone with a drink, looking bored-lonely-sad-beautiful, just waiting for something fun. Or someone fun. And Gurk was fun. And maybe this girl thought bars were fun, who knew. What mattered, was that Gurk had absolutely nailed the seat-picking thing, and was planted right next to her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Gurk dropped her elbows down on the counter to look casual, poked her tinted yellow glasses back up her nose, and got as close to sitting down as she could before she couldn't keep her elbows on the counter anymore. "I like your hair," Gurk finally stated, once she had properly positioned herself. The problem was that the place was loud with crowd-level volume, and she hadn't spoken quite loud enough. Which meant: Speak louder. No problem, I have an amazing speaking ability (TM), she thought (trademark and all) and spoke again: "That's good hair!" She nearly yelled.

[attr="class","gurkfooter"]Notes. @crissatha