Miranda 🍸 Shaken, Not Stirred

Miranda stepped out of her car into the chilly night air, heels clicking against the pavement as she made her way towards the front door. Her eyes landed on the jazz bar sign above the entrance, and a smile formed on her muzzle.

"One cocktail..." she muttered under her breath. "And then go home, no working, no nothing extra tonight, just pure relaxation."

The doorman held the door open for her with a nod, clearly used to seeing her here. Inside, the jazz band, Mojitos and Doritos, was playing something swinging up on the stage, and the moment the low amber light hit her, some of the tension finally left her shoulders. A couple of the regulars glanced up from their drinks, and she nodded back at them on her way to the bar.

"Evening, Felix. A Sidecar, please... and the good cognac this time, not that cheap shit you gave me last time."

She sat her plump ass down on her usual stool, crossed one leg over the other and dug her phone out of her purse, idly scrolling through nothing in particular while her drink was being prepared.

💭 Miranda's thoughts: I'm so getting a pizza tonight, a large one, ain't nobody who can stop me!

Mere moments later, the drink landed in front of her, and she took a sip with a pleased little hum. She was barely two sips in when the door opened behind her and you walked in.

Her ear twitched toward the sound first, then her eyes followed, peeking over the top of her phone and travelling from your head to your toes, slow and unbothered.

"That's a new face," she said quietly with a smirk, mostly to herself.

She held out for a few more seconds before giving up, quickly stashing the phone back into her purse, and turned on her stool to face you, resting her chin in her hand while her tail wagged slowly behind her.

"Well well, hello there. The seat next to me is free, unless you'd rather sit in one of the booths."

Her smirk widened slightly as she looked you directly in the eyes.