contains triggery content
It was another shitty day in London.
Well, shitty by djefa standards. As a species they were none too keen on the cold, and Heteph was no exception. It had even snowed the night before, which as far as she was concerned doubled the shittiness of it all. Her scowl deepened just a tiny bit more each time her hooves crunched against yet another pile of dirty snow and ice. She didn’t want to be out today; not this early, at least. Who cared if it was sunny now; it was barely above freezing, and that meant she had to put on at least three layers.
Something vibrated in her pocket just as she came to a stop at the front door of Hot Rods, and as she spitefully thrust the key in its place she produced the offending phone from within the left breast of her coat. Her expression softened for but a moment as she jabbed a response to the text message, her talons clicking against the screen as she worked the sides of her thumbs against it.
As she stowed her phone away again, the heavy wooden door opened with a groan at the behest of her key and body weight. A light switch was flipped on, the heat was cranked up, and a cigarette was lit as she made her way past the foyer and into the main lounge. For now, she only bothered to turn the lights over the bar on- they wouldn’t be open to the public for another four hours, and she reckoned that this interview would not need more space than that.
A quiet hiss immediately preceded the clink of a beer cap against the floor behind the bar, and for a moment she relished in the silence and darkness of the empty club as she awaited the arrival of her interviewee.