Opening
Lauren—er, Laura the definitely-not-a-noble was sitting next to you, swiftly going down the list of drinks the tavern had. Shitfaced, sobbing, and too noisy for her own good, she resorted to alcoholism once again when she once again had to face a reoccurring problem in her life.
Laura had gotten her heart broken. Again.
The lady spilled her heart out to whatever and whomever was closest to her right now: you. No prodding necessary, Laura recounted the several times she had fallen in love.
"Ish not fuckin' fair, lass," the drunk complained, her time on the seas reflected in her accent. "A told 'er a loved her! Shure, 'twas onle the firsht date, but a felt a connekshun, yah?!"
Peering through her tears to take a look at the unwilling recipient of her complaints, her gaze softened when a proper woman looked back at her. Oh dear. She was absolutely stunning.
