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𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 was a drunkard right now. The harsh scent of alcohol can be smelt off her. She knows this, and so does everyone else. She was struggling to keep her balance, it was like some outer body experience. Everyone who knew Eleanor Calder, particularly Jeremy Scott, knew that the young girl wasn't a heavy drinker ━ not even much of a drinker in general ━ yet tonight she had oddly drowned herself in the alcoholic beverages. Her legs weren't working as she told them, neither were her hands or fingers. Somewhere, deep down inside she knew her brain was sending signals, telling her what to do. Whether or not her body was listening was a different story.
She tried to walk away from the bar, but her legs were telling her otherwise. They were swaying ━ right and left. No matter how many stumbling steps she took forward, she was no where close to leaving the bar behind.
Eleanor slumped down onto the wooden flooring of the saloon. Smoke billowed and eddied around her and through the dim lighted room echoed rowdy crowds of singing and dancing men along to the tunes that the pianist was blissfully playing. Her own throat felt more dry than the baked summery red soil that painted Rhodes. After the heat of the day and everything that had been going on with her father and his men trying to hunt down the people who torched his fields, it was little to no wonder that she had found herself inside the saloon, drinking like there was no tomorrow.
She managed to pull herself off of the floor before pushing her body in between two men who were leaning against the bar, sculling shot after shot. Each drink offered to her seemed like a better and better idea. The jokes were getting funnier, her words were getting more slurry, and her laughter was becoming louder with each second passing by. She wasn't acting like her proper self ━ tugging at her dress to pull it further down, arching her back and pushing her chest out so her cleavage was more visible and rumpling her hand through her long raven locks to draw more attention onto herself.
Everyone knew who she was, that youthful face, those baby blue orbs, rosy lips and especially that surname were very hard to miss. She was too drunk to comprehend what was going on and the all the gossip she was putting on herself, but as of right now she didn't quite care. Her mind was too lost in drunken thoughts to even slither into a small thought about Hugh and the consequences if he got word that his daughter was behaving like this around greasy men ━ he would absolutely slaughter her verbally.
Jeremy Scott was with Eleanor but that didn't do anything or change her behaviour. He had told her that he had met Josiah in the caravan he was living in behind the church here in Rhodes and they both had agreed on meeting in the saloon but there wasn't a sign of Josiah yet. Jeremy was engulfed in deep and slightly drunk conversations on the second floor. He was leaning against the railing with two men, glasses of whisky grasped firmly in their hands as they gazed down at the people who were on the first floor while making conversation.
