Shannon frowned unhappily, looking down at her ID that had gotten her in there in the first place. It wasn't fake, it was the real deal, which was why she was annoyed. "Y'know, Shannon..." The brunette muttered to herself, accepting her glass of cider with a small nod. "A few years ago, you needed a fake ID to sneak into here. Now you have a real one. No getting caught and kicked out..." She frowned and took a small sip of her drink. She would have taken a much larger drink of it if it weren't for the fact that cider tended to hurt when swallowed in large portions.

The brunette glanced around subtly, carefully glancing over the people dancing. She couldn't dance. The only time she ever actually went onto the dance floor was to walk quickly through the crowd, making grabs at things she shouldn't be touching. They'd never find out it was her, and she could just go back to where she had been before while watching her 'victims' look around with either confusion, embarrassment, or anger.

Shannon winced when she swallowed too much cider at once, setting her drink down in front of her and rubbing her sore throat. Sure, the burning sensation would leave soon enough, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt before it did. As usual, she was wearing what could pass off as men's clothing. A white dress shirt, black tie, and baggy jeans that just barely stayed on her. The bottoms of the legs of her jeans had holes in them to show that she scuffed her feet against the ground when walking and had eventually torn them up.

Drumming her fingers against the counter top, Shannon continued observing the people inside Harlot. A shame she couldn't enjoy the female population, since she'd be leaving with her sister for a new location as soon as the Toxic Tour was over in San Francisco.