I need a bloody drink...
That thought had been floating through their head for so long. Without any money to their name though, Corrigan had shoved it from their head. But the days were growing warmer meaning Corrigan had to be more aware because of their...defects. With no other prospects to speak of either, they were pretty beaten down in their current state. Back to square one honestly. No home, no money, no nothin'. Nothing new anyways.
With a heavy sigh that dark thought weaseled its way back to the forefront of their mind. "Fine," they huffed out loud then storming into a bar that they had heard about. The Abbey. What a twist of irony to turn a once peaceful place of godly worship into a den of debauchery and sin. Somewhere there was a metaphor that applied to Corrigan, they were sure especially as they entered the establishment with the full intention of drinking their fill and frying the Muggle machine that counted up the cost. A quick glance around turned up few patrons and less visible threats so Corrigan situated themself at the bar. With a flick of their neck, the gold braid flipped over their shoulder for them to tug at as they thought before settling in to order a simple rum and coke. Once their drink was delivered, they turned and propped a boot on the stool looking about the room curiously. Corrigan quietly took in the renovated abbey and, more importantly, those sitting near her.