Inside the bar, echoes of laugher and revelry fill the air, the most raucious coming from one table. Seated around the table is a trio of bearded men, each respectively filling in their own role as the blonde, brunette, and redhead. Graga's hearty belly laugh echoes the loudest.
"I just can't get over dis getup you got on. You look wediculous." *burp* "HA HA HA!"
As he tipped up his mug of Graggy Ice, Graves looked down at his own outfit. He chuckled a bit to himself. It was a bit more ostentatious than usual, but this was a night out ro enjoy himself.
"I reckon you'd think so. I thought you fancied yerself some kind of cultured gentleman and such. Thought you could appreciate some regional flair."
"Ahm only cultured on the weekdays. *hic* The weekend is fair game!" And with that he let out another rauchious belly laugh. The three men all raised their mugs to their lips for a drink. It was just then that Graves saw a figure across the bar, over by the dance floor. The dull lights barely lit up her blue skin as she twirled her red dress around her.
"Hey, now... that's Fate's old flame, ain't it?"
There was a small spittake from beside him at the table, as Brolaf spoke up quickly. "Malcolm, brother, you don't wanna mess with that one. She's b-" Graves hushed him with raising his hand, before pulling himself out of his chair.
"She's got a common history with me is what she's got. Besides..." He pulled his hat on with a grin, making his first steps away from his new drinking buddies, "I ain't never heard of a dance hurtin' nobody..."
Tying into both his "outlaw" persona and his ties to Twisted Fate, have a tex-mex themed outfit. A Mariachi or Flamenco Dancer themed suit for Graves, and (in taking inspiration from the Mexico Trilogy movies) potentially a guitar-shotgun.