You know that feeling you get when your brother and one of your gal pals are flirting as if there's no tommorow? Yeah, that pretty much explains Dez's situation.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Dezerae muttered, watching Tess and Daxter flirt at the bar.
Does she even know she's talking to a two-foot-tall rodent? she wondered, setting two alcoholic beverages on some random stranger's table. The man sitting there was swaying in his seat, eyes drunkenly trying to focus on the glass placed in front of him.
Dezerae couldn't wait for her shift to be over. She was at her wits end with the drunk bastards that kept trying to score with her. One could only endure so many hours listening to slurred pick-up lines. No wonder she and Tess were the only women who worked at the Triple-H saloon.
Sidestepping an overly-intoxicated patron, the red-head paced back to the bar for another person's order.
"...Racing is the biggest sport in the city," Krew was saying, floating around the trophy's stacked haphazardly on way-too-high-for-any-normal-person-to-reach shelves. Dezerae listened in as she waited for Tess to grab the drinks she needed to deliver to the waiting shlub, pausing in her flirt-fest with Daxter.
"Erol is the undisputed grand champion. He's crazy and dangerous on the track," the floating tub of lard chuckled, "My kind of guy. Only a fool would dare race against him, ey!" proclaimed Krew, drifting over and getting in Jak's face, a habit of the fat man's. Unnoticed - or rather, ignored - by Krew, the blonde rengade waved one gloved hand in front of his nose, clearing the breathing space of Krew-fumes. "And that's where you two come in. A client of mine is looking for a fast driver for her racing team. Here's a security pass to get you into the stadium section." He threw the little device to Jak, who caught it deftly. "Uh, and your contract with just a few trifles for me. I've, ah, already signed your name to save time."
Save time? More like sealing the deal before hero-boy gets a say, Dezerae thought as Daxter caught the papers that fell from Krew's overly-pudgy fingers and began to read.
"We the racers hereby agree to give Krew all proceeds from race earnings, endorsement fees, broadcast royalties, syndications residuals, vehicle sponsorships, mall appearance fees, collectible card assets, fast-food tie-ins, use of likeness rights, talk show deals, clothing lines, all print rights including book, novella, comic, pamphlet, tickertape, neon sign and bathroom graffiti designs..." The ottsel took a deep breath, since he recited all of the first page in one. Thankfully the next page was not as long. Dezerae zoned the list out as she waitressed drinks.
Across the saloon, a "GAME RIGHTS?" was heard, as she was in the back room to escape the patrons for a few minutes. She, Phenric, and Natalie often disappeared back there, much to the owner's annoyance.
"Hey, you wanna come, Sis?" asked Daxter from Jak's shoulder as they both peeked in the room before departing.
"Sorry, Dax. I have to run a couple errands for you-know-who. I'll meet you guys back at the Hideout."
"Alright. See you later, then." And with that the Demolition Duo left to race to the Stadium. To make it all the way there in under three minutes would be amazing, since it and the Port were on opposite sides of the city.
"So," Dezerae began, seating herself on a stool opposite of Tess. "What exactly do you see in my brother?"
"What don't I see in Daxxie? He's sweet, funny..." Tess almost swooned just thinking of him.
"You forgot obnoxious, an ottsel, and he's Daxter."
"But like you told us, he wasn't always like that," countered the perky blonde.
"I said he wasn't always an ottsel. The other two, he's always been."
Natalie and Phenric joined them at that moment, and changed the subject completely over to the state of some of the patrons, the male portion of whom were on a mission to get completely wasted.
Okay, that wasn't too short, was it? I'm trying to keep them at least 700 words long. I'm going to have Dezerae go on a solo mission next chappie. What "errands" should she run? You decide! Please?