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There are certain things a person knows in life. Don't eat yellow snow would be one of them but the one that is important at the moment, is that if you are in a bar, there is a chance that Dartsmoore just might show up there. There were two scenarios that highly increase these chances (okay three but the one was her just being severely low on alcohol and that's a given). The first scenario was that something very influential to some plot would be happening at that bar that night. The other was the bar you were going to happened to be in the same area she was in.


On that day, the miniature woman in question was seated on a bar stool, with a drink that appeared to be made of a combination of at least 5 hard liquors. What was mostly visible was her thick leather jacket and blue-silver pompadour. From behind, one might even mistake her for Charlie (particularly since he happened to be in bars in that area more often), but closer inspection (or just attention to details or intuition) usually threw that idea out the window. She was older than he was, and female, with a somewhat prominent facial structure.

Dartsmoore raised an eyebrow at the statement but nodded. She wasn't so much in denial of the fact that he fell out of her hair as she was getting rather used to calling him a cousin at this point - it was less tiresome than calling him an alternate or dude-that-fell-from-my-hair. It saved time in answering questions. But this person obviously already knew Charlie anyway.

"And I assume you'd be Vic, given how Bailey and Charlie have described you." It wasn't just his description that she knew him from - Charlie knew only about three people, one of which she'd met and one of which was female. So that kind of only left one.

Dartsmoore looked from Vic to her glass. "Hell if I remember anymore. I stopped caring about 3 hours ago and just asked him to throw a bit of whatever he had the was hard in there." she said with a shrug. "Been too long since I've actually gone out for a drink. Last time I did that I came home and had another kid so it's kept me from going out too much recently."

"I'll take it by the apron you were the one that was the Chef then." she said, "I tend to get who has what job mixed up a bit."


"Yes I guess that would be bad for business in that line of work. The job I used to do, it was practically a requirement to be in a bar a lot." she added with a nod.

"I've seen people like that." Dartsmoore snorted. "And they're usually doing that on their third drink while I'm ordering my thirtieth. Confuses the hell out of some bartenders. And everyone else in the area."

"I think the people who make the body mass index are afraid to meet me. My drinking might completely throw their system out of whack." she smirked at the thought. A lot of doctors had been confused by how her body works over the years.

"Sure." she commented, downing the rest of hers quickly. Unlike Charlie, she was a bit more concrete on her affirmations. Plus she wasn't picky with the offers of buying her drinks. Most things anyone could put in them didn't really work on her anyway so why reject free booze? Plus this guy seemed pretty cool so.

"Dartsmoore. Or Dartie, that one's getting popular. But don't call me that one unless you can take a hit." she said with a nod. It wasn't really a threat, just an honest statement of her feelings on the matter. She didn't want someone she didn't consider worth her respect to call her by a nickname. She also didn't want anyone calling her Charlene, which she had to kick the crap out of Charlie for doing, but why bring that up at all? Not like he needed to know it, since she didn't want him using it.