Slippers In A Student Bar?
A/N umm yep this is what crossed my mind today. So enjoy a story of how Miranda and Stevie met. And ugghh this is so terrible. But anyways. Enjoy.
Miranda slipped into the bar (see what I did there), finding that the carpet was way too staticky. She forced her way towards the bar but found her slippers were caught on a sticky beer stain on the floor. She forced her foot into the floor again and again, finally huffing loudly and lifting her feet. The inhabitants of the pub turned round to stare as she started saying all manner of strange swearwords. These included mostly students and a few homeless-looking men who looked like they'd rather be out on the street than inside the pub. The bar was old and decrepit and actually smelled quite like old orange peel. Miranda looked down. Caught beneath her right slipper was an old orange peel (what a surprise).
"Oh bally bother and-" she paused and caught the several pairs of eyes staring at her, so she huffed again and looked up at the barkeep. "They can all go to hell. Can I have double whiskey, because I need it- no hang on," she hastily checked her watch, "it's past nine o'clock so-" she squinted up at the board behind the bar and attempted to read the scrawly doctor's handwriting that spelled out the various drink combinations the bar was offering. "A 'curly-whirly?'" She said, the barkeeper just stared back at her for a few seconds, then started dancing around behind the counter shaking various bottles and glasses until a small colourful drink with a curly straw was presented to her. The barkeep slid it across the bar top like cowboys did in movies and for a split second Miranda was tempted to bang her fist on the counter and demand that he meet her outside at dawn. But instead she almost fell into one of the too-tall stools and sipped at her straw.
She didn't know quite what she was attempting to do by coming here in her pyjamas, but part of her knew her mother would kill her if she didn't leave the flat soon and meet some people. Or more specifically meet a man she could marry immediately. So she sipped, alone.
Stevie looked her up and down before saying in a pointed and judgemental voice, "slippers in a student bar?"
Miranda looked up. She hadn't noticed anyone was watching her, "yeah." She said sadly and looked back to her drink.
"No, I'm sorry. You're what-?" Stevie looked her up and down again, "twenty five?"
"Twenty five?! I'm nineteen," Miranda shot back but Stevie just shrugged. "I definitely don't look twenty five do I?"
Stevie didn't reply to that but held in a chuckle. "You need to get all of this-" she pointed in Miranda's general direction, "under control." She slipped off her own stool and toppled over as was the height difference between her feet and the floor. Miranda stifled a laugh.
"You need any help over there, oh tiny one?" She said, pushing her drink away and extending her hand to help the blonde off the sticky carpet.
Stevie righted herself and smoothed over her hair. "No, I'm fine thank you very much." She seemed stuffy and uptight and Miranda was sure she was going to leave any minute now because she couldn't see herself being friends with this girl. But then she said, "I'm going to help you, you can't keep walking around like this."
"Just sit down again," Miranda replied. Stevie ordered a drink and then sipped alongside her new friend.