Smell of booze, sweat, and strong perfume hits Amanda's nose when Wade opened the door.
Welcome to Sister Margaret's.
The home of Canada's most brutal mercenaries.
Wade sees the bar as a job fair for the mercenaries. But Amanda thinks it's a circus.
A bunch of up-to-no-good dregs of the society seeking for a warm company of beer, chaos, and hot women. All that is what Sister Margaret's has to offer.
Some might think this place is a dumpster. But for the them, this is home.
A menacing man that looks like a member of an outlaw motorcycle club called Amanda as they enter the bar.
"Hey Boothe." Amanda smirked as she jokingly punches his belly, earning a groan from him.
She continued to walk until she reached the bar counter, Wade still on the bar's entrance, rudely greeting the outlaws as they walked inside.
"'Sup Specs?" She enthusiastically held her hands up and wave to her timid friend.
Weasel, the two's information broker and arms dealer winced as he saw the blonde assassin sat on the stool in front of him.
"Oh god. You're here." he swallowed nervously putting down the beer bottles on his hand.
Her smile immediately faltered as she placed both of her arms at the counter, face on the top of her palms as she purposely did a puppy eyes, much to Weasel's dismay.
"Don't sound so disappointed, Jack. I might think you don't like me."
The man flinched as he heard his real name coming out of his tongue.
"Who wouldn't? You've caused a lot of damage at the bar last week and I'm still paying for the pool table."
The blonde assassin pouted.
"You're not still mad about that." She spoke before putting her head down to the counter.
The geek huffed out a sigh, a small smile forming his lips.
"Of course. Although you treat me like a piece of shit, you're my friend." Weasel wipe the bar counter before throwing the rug on the box near him.
"So what brings the princess here in the land of thieves?"
Mandy jolted as she turned her chair around, her back facing her friend.
"Me and Wade are having a game."
"Does this includes violence? Because I just got the drywall done."
She returned her gaze to her friend. A mischievous smirk plastered on her face.
"If the person's turn-on is destruction, yes."
Weasel cursed under his breathe as he shifted his attention to the merc of the hour, confidently strutting as he acknowledged Boothe on the counter.
"Wade Wilson. Patron Saint of the Pitiful. What can I get you?"
"I'd love a blowjob."
Amanda's face immediately scrunched up as she heard Wade's request.
"Oh, god. Me too." Weasel agreed as he stared at nowhere.
The blonde rolled her eyes at the back of her head as she faced her two friends.
"No one wants to hear your non-existent sex life, Specs."
Wade chuckled at their conversation before fishing the wallet in his jean pocket.